


Bloodlust

by alwaysbeenapirate



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Puns & Word Play, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 54,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5882551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysbeenapirate/pseuds/alwaysbeenapirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of smutty things about vampire Killian Jones and the woman he can't stay away from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taste

Midnight. That’s exactly what the clock read as the steam finally settled in her cup of tea, the mug beaming dark red as she stared out her bedroom window. The sky was painted with a myriad of faded stars and a clouded over moon, one that was nearing its fourth consecutive lunar eclipse said the news earlier that evening. Emma didn’t know much about astronomy - only what she’d heard recently about such phenomena actually - but those with a more extensive knowledge were predicting a ‘blood moon’ in the coming weeks. Oh, what a sweet sound of irony _that_ phrase brought to her ears.

She shifted in her seat next to the bay window, pulling the too large thick coat tighter around her shoulders. Its warmth matched that of the blanket marvelously, the black fabric contrasting with the deep red quilt in a tribute to the color that had been filling her mind all day. Well, that hue and the chaotic blue color she’d seen in a familiar pair of eyes. She wondered what shade they’d be if he was there now.

A shiver shook her body as she lifted her hand to the slightly sore place on her neck, the expanse of skin marked by the owner of that cobalt stare. The flaws were faint, two identical indents piercing the space just below her ear. She’d run her touch over them several times since it had happened, usually during one of those multiple moments where she wished she had reacted differently. She’d had plenty of regretful thoughts since he’d vanished into the dark night only days ago. A sigh left her lips and she winced for more reasons than one.

It had been two days - well, more like two nights since she’d seen him. The realization was a cold and empty one that prompted her to toy with the collar of the black coat currently keeping her warm. God, that damn jacket even _smelled_ like him. Of course, that was probably the reason she’d pulled it on when darkness fell. It was a poor substitute for his faithful company though and yes, it probably wasn’t wise, but she _wanted_ to see him - deadly as the decision to do so might be.

Emma couldn’t remember how everything had happened, the way her life had become so quickly intertwined with his much more complicated one. She wasn’t sure during which particular instance she had allowed herself to be so okay with him - with who he was and more so with _what_ he was. Every moment since she’d woken up to his startling blue eyes had been unbelievable, but it was true - he was a man who wasn’t _supposed_ to be real, but somehow and rather supernaturally _was_.

She remembered meeting him - _well_ , vaguely. She’d been closing in on a particularly difficult case, one that had finally landed her in a foot race down a dark alley between side streets. Her breath was heavy in the cool night air and she had taken a corner around a brick wall too fast, meeting the cobblestones of the sidewalk with a smacking thud. Groaning, she remembered trying to lift herself with weakened arms to no avail. One of them was surely broken and she winced in pain, her throbbing and definitely wounded head dizzy with defeat as she wondered briefly how she would ever get out of such a secluded area before bleeding out. Reality flickered in her eyes several times, her life swaying between conscious and not when she heard the voice.

_Lass? Lass, are you okay?_

The words were smooth and comforting, a rough accent riding them as she tried to keep her eyes open. Fading fast, she opened her mouth with a slight gasp as she made out the feel of two strong hands lifting her and whispered reassurances she could almost _swear_ she was imagining.

_Stay with me, love. I’ve got you. Just stay with me._

She listened - though she wasn’t exactly sure if she had any control over the fact that she hadn’t died. No, that fortune conclusion was due to the place she ended up the next day and the man who’d clearly taken her there. 

###### 

The blackness she’d encountered after the little slip up was ripped away some hours later by beeping machines and the sliver of morning light through a small window. She blinked rapidly, glancing down at the IV in her arm before raising her hand to the sutures along her wrist. Her mind throbbed with the broken memory of the night before and she tried to reassemble the pieces as she stared up at the ceiling tiles.

She knew she’d fallen. She knew she’d been hurt - and more than just a scratch or two if the hospital room was any indication. She squinted her vision a moment as she tried to recall how she’d ended up in such a place. It didn’t take too long to summon the image of a pair of steel, icy blue eyes.

There had been a man - a handsome hero or vigilante or _something_ \- but he’d _saved_ her somehow. The cliched storybooks would have called him a ‘knight in shining armor’ or some other overzealous term, but Emma had a feeling that he was more….and maybe even a little _different_ than that. She felt far too decent for somebody who’d recently met the cold hard ground face first. Her eyes followed the sparse scratches on her skin, studying the minor wounds on the arm she _knew_ she’d broken - but it wasn’t. The bone was solid, no pain or injury marring it. She was clinging to what were some poorly conceived questions when the door opened softly.

“You’re awake.”

The obvious was stated from the exposed doorway, the light of the buzzing hallway illuminating a frame of who Emma assumed to be the doctor. She straightened and sat up fully as the door clicked behind him and he moved into view. His lab coat was pristine white, a brilliant lack of blemish that matched the perfect set of teeth currently in view while he smiled kindly. He had jet black hair and a walk that was nothing less than a swagger as he gripped a clipboard. A few rapid blinks told Emma that she wasn’t imagining him. She toyed with the hem of the blanket as she tried to decide if that was good or bad.

“Emma Swan, right?”

“ _Uh_ , yeah,” she confirmed, shaking some sense into her muddled mind. “How you know my name?”

“Call it a doctor’s intuition,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows before he pointed to her wallet on the bedside table. “Your driver’s license was in there. I hope you’ll forgive the invasion of privacy.”

“Oh….yeah, it's….not a big deal,” she adjusted her position in the suddenly uncomfortable bed. “Am I okay? I mean….am I good to go home?”

“ _Ah_ , eager to leave I see,” he laughed, scribbling on the forms on the clipboard. “I’d like to check a couple of things before I send you on your way, but afterwards, that should be fine. You made quite the miraculous recovery for someone who fell so hard.”

The events of the previous night flashed again in her head as she caught sight of the doctor’s blue stare. The details prodded at her until her own gaze went wide with recognition. Was this _him_? Was _this_ the guy who had rescued her?

“How,  _uh_ ….how did I get here?”

“You don’t remember, lass?”

“No,” Emma admitted, biting her lip. “Did you - was it you who….saved me? I remember….a little.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it ‘saved’ so much as me merely being in the right place at the right time,” he explained, walking to adjust the curtains in the room. “Sorry, did you want these open?”

“No, it’s okay,” she assured him, her smile weak. “My head, it….still kinda hurts. So I guess I’d kind of like it dark for now if that’s okay.”

“Aye,” he smirked cleverly. “I don’t mind in the slightest, love.”

###### 

It had been quite a quick departure and roughly four days later when she had another run-in with the man who she’d woken up to. She was scouring over aspirin bottles at the twenty four hour drugstore post late evening stakeout. The night’s scuffle had ended easier than expected with her client in cuffs and only her cheek slightly bruised. Well, _maybe_ it was cut up a bit too. She smiled with a soft sigh - those were results she could live with.

“Emma?”

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Emma spun on the soles of her shoes to face the questioning voice just behind her. Several bottles tumbled to the ground with a rattle, rolling over the tiles at her feet as her voice ceased to exist. It was _him_ \- the mysterious Dr. Blue Eyes from the hospital.

“ _Oh_ \- umm, hi,” she finally said in a startled tone. “What are you doing here?”

“At my local neighborhood pharmacy?”

“Yeah, err….that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s okay, lass,” he laughed, scratching at his stubble covered jaw. “The first aid aisle just before midnight _does_ seem like an odd place to run into someone you know….but I needed some band aids oddly enough.”

“I see,” Emma nodded, her curiosity suddenly flourishing. “This late?”

“Aye,” he grinned with those pearly whites. “Injury strikes at odd times, love. I’ve got a few years of emergency room experience to prove that.”

“Hmm, _right_ ,” Emma mused, reading the label of some extra strength pills. “I guess it’s that or you’re a vampire.”

His posture straightened only slightly, but enough for Emma to notice. She paused her contemplating just in time to watch his eyes darken as he swallowed hard. Her lips parted as she thought of something to say. That devastatingly handsome smirk of his beat her to it.

“I suppose the latter would be a rather unlikely explanation,” he said, tilting his head. “I’d love to hear the one for that scratch under your eye though, Swan.”

“Oh - _that_ ,” she flinched as her fingers touched the mark. “I just….work related accident I guess. It’s not a big deal though.”

“I’d beg to differ,” he replied, angling his sight to get a better look. “Difficult perp?”

“Kind of,” she shrugged with a smile. “All taken care of now though.”

“Again, I don’t know about that, love. Care to talk about it?”

“I don’t think talking about it will make my head hurt less,” Emma commented.

“I suppose that’s true,” he sighed, setting down the box of bandages he’d intended on purchasing. “But it might make the walk shorter.”

“The walk?”

“Aye, my office isn’t far from here,” he told her, nodding toward the door. “I can’t let you wander around at night with an open wound, love. ‘Do no harm’ and all that.”

“Oh - no, it’s fine….”

“Emma, no-” he said firmly, reaching for her hand as his eyes went wildly blue. “-it’s not.”

His touch was icy against her flesh, the contact making her wonder if her body was on fire. She watched his gaze evolve into a sympathetic yet caring sort of stubbornness. It was intriguing. It was _alluring_ \- though she was at a loss for the reason why.

“If you’re that intent on preserving my well being,” she started, raising an eyebrow. “Are you at least going to tell me your name first?”

“It’s Killian,” he grinned. “Killian Jones.”

“Killian,” she repeated, enjoying the way the sound rolled off her tongue. “I guess I should say it’s nice to meet you?”

“Only if it is,” he chuckled. “But on _my_ end, I’d like to say that it’s _very_ nice to meet you, Emma Swan. Now - shall we go?”

###### 

Something caused her toes to tingle as his perfect smile flashed and his stare lightened. He flipped the collar of his jacket up, the black fabric of his thick winter peacoat making him look the part of dark and dangerous. Maybe that’s what he was. Maybe she _had_ to find out for sure.

It was a wonder that she’d followed him so easily - she didn’t know much about this man other than the fact that he’d rescued her post minor collision with the concrete. She tried not to question how hypnotized she felt by his presence and by the fact that he seemed so determined to keep her safe. Those realizations were enough for her to acquiesce to the way he gave her his jacket, almost demanding that she take it to ward off the chilly air. He offered her his arm as they approached the curb at the end of the block, chiding her with a comment about her ability to navigate corner crossings. Emma had shot back with a bit of a nasty glare, accompanied by a dramatic turn that nearly landed her in the path of an approaching car.

“Swan, watch out!”

His yell was surprising, but not as much as his impossible speed and dexterity as he grabbed her hand to pull her back to safety. The car passed with a loud honk and Emma allowed herself to ignore it as his heated stare took hold of her. She froze in his embrace, locked in a battle for balance and sanity as he held her close. Time seemed to stand still as the sounds the of the city finally came back into focus and she pried herself from his grip.

“How did you….what….h-how….”

She felt the stuttering words leave her lips, but she couldn’t seem to get control of them enough to form a coherent sentence. His shoulders were tense as he stared at the ground and ran an anxious hand through his dark hair. It took longer than she’d anticipated, but he finally glanced back up at her with the most conflicted expression she’d ever seen.

“I want to tell you something,” he offered quietly, pulling keys from his pocket and nodding to the building just across the way. “But not here. Will you come inside? I promise I don’t b-”

His word faded into the midnight air, the darkness cutting off his little quip before he could finish it. Emma knew what he’d meant to say though and she couldn’t fight the urge to complete his playful word.

“Bite? You don’t….bite?”

The guilt scribbled all over his features should have banished her questioning words, but she _needed_ to hear it. She needed him to answer her unspoken question - yes, the _impossible_ one that she’d been too skeptical and afraid to ask.

“Not usually,” he said softly, taking her hand and pulling her close as they crossed the now deserted street. “Not unless you _want_ me to.”

He flipped on the lights to the exam room and moved to scrub his hands before he looked back at her. She didn’t miss the shaky breath he took or the way he seemed to study her features like he was deciphering a code. The words that came next were exactly what she expected, but it didn’t make them any less shocking to hear.

“You’re right, you know,” he said, breaking the quiet space between them. “I am.”

It wasn’t exactly an admission, but she knew what he meant. He was telling her _what_ he was. He was confirming the reality she’d suspected, but never truly believed could be real - _well_ , not until now when it was standing _right_ in front of her.

“But….how?”

“It’s a long story I’m afraid,” he said with a weak smirk. “One that is probably quite less fathomable than I’d like it to be.”

She knew she should run. She knew she should call the police or the tabloids or a psychiatrist who could tell her she’d hit her head harder than she imagined, but she didn’t do anything of those things. Instead, she sat - dropping the jacket off her shoulder and tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Well, you said you’d take a look at my battle wounds,” she started, giving him a comforting smile. “I guess I wouldn’t mind a story while you do so.”

“You don’t want to go?“

“I guess I….probably  _should_ ….but no,” Emma replied pensively, trying to catch his uneasy gaze. “But if I stay, I need something.”

“Okay,” he nodded, arching an eyebrow and he rested a hand under her chin. “What can I do for you, Emma?”

“Say it,” she almost whispered, turning her head slightly so he could see her bruised eye. “Tell me.”

He reached for some cotton, brushing his finger over the injury gently. His flesh was icy, but in a way that contrasted sensually against Emma’s flushed face. There was firm and desire filled intent in his touch - the kind that made her want to snap the tension between them with a fiery, desperate kiss. She couldn’t do that though - _not_ with what she knew now.

“I’m a vampire.”

The words tumbled from his lips, tangled so precisely in his rugged accent. Emma was almost sure she imagined them for a moment as her heart raced and her pulse pounded. She wondered if he could hear it - or if it was driving him absolutely _mad_ in the same way his tender, caressing hand was doing to her.

“How is that….possible?”

“Not a believer then?”

“I didn’t say that,” Emma answered, flinching as he pressed a little harder on her wound. “I just….you said you’d explain.”

“Okay,” he agreed, the slight curve of his grin lifting. “Though I’ve got to warn you that it’s not exactly fairytale material, love.”

“I guess it’s a good thing that I never liked fairytales much anyway.”

He seemed to find amusement in her retort, lifting an ice pack to her eye as he set into a detailed recollection. Emma watched him intensely as she took note of his dark expression and the way his eyes went hollow at certain parts of the tale. It didn’t take long for her to put the fragments together - even though Killian Jones had a _hell_ of a past.

He wasn’t as old as she thought he _could_ be - the typical stereotype of centuries in age when it came to his kind was proven wrong when he told her he was only a couple decades over a hundred. He’d turned post war back in England, a military doctor who’d been wounded fatally but woke up well rested and healed in a hospital without explanation weeks later. It was strangely comforting to know that the man treating her had been mending skin for such a long time, even though he hadn’t chosen that line of work with eternity in mind. It had taken him years to adjust, daylight his mortal enemy until he procured the ring he’d been currently wearing around his neck. It was inlaid with a red stone Emma didn’t recognize, but whatever ‘magic’ or power it possessed allowed him out in the sunlight if needed. She smirked to herself as she remembered him saying he preferred the darkness.

“But you don’t shimmer or sparkle or whatever,” Emma commented, still trying to figure out why her fear was absent. “If I’m not mistaken, you’ve got a cross hanging on that silver chain of yours too….”

“This also isn’t a preteen romance novel, darling,” he grinned, adjusting the ice pack as she leaned into it. “If it was, you’d be _deeply_ in love with me by now.”

“Hardly,” Emma said with narrowed eyes. “Sorry I guess I’m just….fascinated is all. Though you could have easily fooled me - I’ve never heard of a vampire who wears Converse sneakers _and_ works in the emergency room frequently.”

“I’d be happy to continue the Q&A over a drink sometime-” he flirted while quickly adding. “-if you’d be comfortable with that.”

“Oh, I…. _umm_ ….”

“Wait, no - _no_! That isn't….that's…. _not_ what I meant at all,” he clarified, waving his free hand in embarrassment. “I meant like a glass of rum or whiskey or something. At a _bar_ \- with _other_ people around.”

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Emma laughed softly. “I’m not….I’m not scared of you.”

“I’ve given you every reason to be.”

“Are you saying-” she began, swallowing hard. “-that you're….dangerous?”

“I guess that depends on how you’d define the word,” he returned. “But I wouldn't….I don’t _want_ to hurt you, Emma.”

“Why?”

“I’d venture it’s related to me being completely besotted with you,” he blushed. “If I may be so bold as to say.”

“Right,” Emma sighed, fusing her eyes to his. “You don’t even know me.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, lowering the ice to his open palm. “I suppose not.”

Emma took a moment to observe the deft manner in which his hands worked as he unrolled a cotton cloth, his long fingers manipulating the material into a carefully folded square. Running it under the nearby faucet, she watched him wet it enough that it would serve the purpose of ridding her skin of the trace of blood that was definitely there. He knitted his eyebrows together and angled his neck as he lifted it to her cheek.

“Wait,” she said, a shadow of panic in her tone. “This….doesn’t _bother_ you? The blood?”

“Oh - _well_ , no,” he smiled, cleaning the cut ever so carefully. “I’ve had quite a bit of practice with self control in that area, Swan. The doctor thing has played a large part in that.”

“I guess it’s good to know that you’re not tempted,” she flinched, the swipe of the cloth on her bruised skin slightly painful.

“Well,” he shrugged, fighting a smile. “I never said _that_.”

“Oh,” Emma straightened, tilting her head. “So….you _are_?”

“Perhaps a little,” he admitted. “But like I said - self control.”

She was walking on thin ice, her feet traversing what was certainly hazardous ground. She shouldn’t be asking him such things - what if she was crossing a line? Her inquiry could be the match that might ignite that feral reaction she’d seen from the undead in those _horrible_ horror movies. Alright, maybe not - something told her that Killian Jones wasn’t _that_ kind of vampire.

“Is that what you really want though? To be in control?”

“I’ve found it crucial to my way of life,” he responded in a curious manner. “Though I can’t say it’s always easy.”

“Is it easy….right now?”

His eyes flickered from that calm sea blue to a much stormier shade as he lowered his hand. Emma felt a gasp leave her lips as his palm met her thigh and his breath became labored. He was fighting something. She _had_ to know what.

“Why me?”

“I don’t know,” he replied quietly. “But I find it more difficult with you. It’s….harder to keep myself in check.”

“What happens if you-” Emma breathed, letting her hand drop down on top of his. “-don’t keep that control?”

“People get hurt,” he explained, totally mesmerized by her fingertips and the way they met his. “Bad things happen, Emma….and sometimes I can’t stop-”

“But you don’t _want_ to hurt me, right?”

She wasn’t sure when she became quite so bold, but her free hand had moved to his bicep. She squeezed softly before sliding it up, moving her fingers from his strong shoulder up the back of his thick scalp. His hair was long and shaggy enough that she knew she could hold onto it. His eyes fell closed as her nails scratched softly and his relaxed moan met the air.

She’d moved close enough to see the freckles on his skin, the way his jaw clenched hard as she touched him. His eyelashes were dark and long against his cheeks as they shielded that ever changing gaze. His lips had parted, their smooth texture fully visible as his tongue grazed the lower one. Emma was instantly entranced by his mouth - and the fangs that inevitably factored into it weren’t even the reason why.

“ _Emma_ ,” he gasped. “You have to-”

“Killian, it’s okay-”

“No, it’s _not_ ,” he said suddenly, abruptly pulling back as he appeared to catch his breath. “We have to go.”

He set about tidying up the area, tossing the materials he’d used in the garbage and manically throwing things into the nearby drawer. Emma pulled his jacket back around herself as she watched him. He wasn’t angry - he was _frustrated_. The Something told her there was a _huge_ difference in those emotions when it came to this man.

She stood when he moved to the door, a bit of surprise overtaking her when he flipped the lock behind him and headed for the exit without word. She trailed after him as the little bell overhead dinged upon pushing the glass door and her body clenched once it met the cold night air. He was several paces ahead, already crossing the road that was damp with rain. What had just happened?

“Killian! Killian - _wait_ ….”

He paused once his feet landed on the sidewalk, almost as if he was a slave to her words. She reached for his arm, prompting him to turn on his heel to face her. His pale skin was nearly white against the backdrop of the alleyway behind him and his eyes were filled with a contention that made Emma’s stomach flutter. The blue she found there was burning hot - a tint not unlike that of a flickering flame. Her hand moved automatically to his cheek, her fingers holding his jaw in an effort to calm him.

“Killian-”

She’d barely uttered his name when his hand pressed hard against her back and he descended forward, slamming his lips to hers with a passion that was anything but human. He pulled her body close to his as the kiss deepened and Emma tried to maintain her ability to stand. A soft growl escaped him when she finally parted her mouth, allowing him entrance as he threaded a hand through her long hair.

No, Killian Jones wasn’t going to kill her - but his kiss just _might_.

She never felt her feet move, but the light around them grew faint and the burning heat of her back was suddenly met by a pattern of frigid red bricks. Emma felt them press hard against her shoulder blades as his mouth assaulted hers, his hand guiding her lips to move more firmly on his. She was almost sure she’d found the rhythm he was setting when his hips rutted against hers and she moaned softly, her knees weakening.

“Bloody hell, _Emma_ -”

The accented curse would have made her laugh ironically if by some miracle she’d even been able to _think_ in that moment. The haze clouding her mind was daunting though and she dug her fingernails into his hair, jerking his lips back to hers more roughly than intended. He pinned her hips with his own as she grinded against him, his movements almost animalistic in nature as he pried his mouth from hers. Emma whimpered at the loss, but melted when she felt his lips fused to her neck. Her grip on his hair tightened as he held her flush against him, his tongue tracing the lines of her collarbone and then back up her throat. God, he was going to _devour_ her - and she was helpless in fighting the desire to let him.

“ _Killian_ \- more….”

Her hands slid down his chest, following the rigid muscles of his abdomen as he groaned. His breath was hot and trembling as he continued his mouth’s exploration along her clavicle. Emma felt the surprisingly soft drag of his teeth along the skin of her neck and she shivered at the contact. Something about her reaction seemed to encourage him and he did it again, accompanying his effort with a slight nibble. A surprising sound left Emma’s lips and he set back into the hurried, passionate motion of kissing every square inch of her when a sudden, sharp pinch at her neck caused her to flinch in a most startled manner.

“O-ouch,” she gasped, biting her swollen lip. “Dammit….”

“Emma? What’s wr-”

Killian breathed her name like a man possessed, his eyes full of fiery promise as he paused. She nearly forgot what had caused them to stop when she caught sight of his wrecked hair and half exposed chest. _God_ , he was good looking. She was in the process of counting the ways that could be proven when the small amount of color he usually had drained from his face.

“Oh - _whoa_ , Killian, I’m okay - I just….”

She lifted her hand to the place she’d felt the quick flash of pain, the space just below her ear. Almost sure she had imagined it, she brought her fingers back down as she watched his odd reaction. As the lust left her head and she watched him drift back cautiously, everything clicked into place. She didn’t have to look at her fingertips to know what had happened, but the drops of blood she found on them confirmed what was surely his greatest fear.

He’d _bitten_ her. Even worse than that, he hadn’t meant to.

“Killian, don’t….hey - _no_. Stop. It’s fine.”

She brushed her reddened fingers over her jeans as she tried to move toward him. He slunk backward with a wide stare, a horrified expression overtaking him. She saw the guilt paint his features as he ran an anxious hand over his mouth, clearly wanting to rid himself of wearing the blood he might have stolen from her on his lips. Emma felt her voice leave her throat as she tried to figure out what to say.

“Emma, I’m sorry….I just….”

“No - _wait_ ,“ she finally said, her words pleading. “I’m okay. You didn’t mean to. I _know_ that.”

“I have to go, Emma,” he resolved, his feet shuffling as he peered from side to side. “I’m sorry.”

She reached for him, paying no mind to the fact that he didn’t want her to, but it was a useless attempt. The night air was freezing and empty as she spun in a circle. He was gone.

###### 

Emma shuddered at the recollection of him disappearing into the thin evening air as her fingers traced the small punctures on her neck once more. It hadn’t been his fault - he wasn’t _trying_ to hurt her. He’d promised her he wouldn’t. She rested her head against the cold glass of the window as she tried to determine whether or not he truly had the willpower to make that call.

Her wondering was cut off quickly as the doorbell rang, the sound of an intrusive chime echoing through the emptiness of her house. She straightened in her seat and pushed the jacket off her arms as she headed for the stairs. She took them two at a time, her mind suddenly realizing just who it might be. Of course it had to be _him_ \- who else would be at her front door at such an hour?

“Killian?”

The name left her lips in a relieved tone, one that held no question but plenty of fading distress. His head was lowered as his hands braced on opposite sides of the door, but it lifted slowly to reveal the eyes she’d missed so terribly. They were clad in a light, apologetic blue - and god, she _never_ knew she could love a color so much.

“Swan.”

Hearing his voice made her want to dissolve into the floorboards, his timbre ragged and somewhat tormented. He’d clearly been giving himself hell since the moment he left the alley and the lack of finesse in his long acquired accent proved that. He was wearing those well fitted jeans she’d admired since the second she ran into him in the drugstore, paired with a blue flannel button down and his black sneakers. He looked more like a starving musician than a vampire - a fact that made her smile. Well, smile _bigger_ anyway - she had already been doing so at the realization that he was the person who’d landed on her doorstep.

“Hi,” she said softly. “How did you….I mean, this is my house.”

 _God_ , could she sound any more ridiculous? Any fool with half a brain could determine that this was her residence. She was more interested in knowing how he’d found that out. Damn, those eyes were _distracting_.

“Aye, it is,” he smirked subtly. “ _Also_ listed on your driver’s license.”

“You…. _remembered_ that?”

“Several decades of experience has done wonders for my memory, love.”

“Right - vampire thing,” she deduced, shaking her head. “It’s, umm….good to see you.”

“Likewise,” he nodded, biting his lip in concentration. “Actually, I was hoping we could talk?”

“Oh - sure,” she decided, pushing the door open a little wider. “I’d like that.”

She stepped back slightly, a silent gesture to provide him entry, but he stayed put. He sighed heavily as he scratched behind his ear in a nervous manner. Emma studied him, pursing her lips a moment before it finally dawned on her. Right - this was _her_ house.

“I’d like it too, love,” he agreed, realizing she’d pieced it together. “But you’re going to have to invite me in.”

 


	2. Savor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little late night encounter. Definitely Rated M. All rights/characters belong to OUAT - I own nothing!

It took one quick sweep of her pantry for Emma to settle with the facts - she knew absolutely _nothing_ about being hospitable to a vampire. She sighed heavily as she scanned the labels of various snacks and drink mixes. Leaning her head in the cabinet, she realized she'd have to chalk this up to one of the rare instances of ‘common courtesy backlash’. _Dammit_.

She'd been excited to see him, her subtle giddiness magnified when she watched him stand in the door frame while awaiting permission. He looked almost happy - even though she knew the conversation he'd come to have might share that quality. His eyes were a tired blue, almost as if he'd been warring with a lack of rest. Well, supposing he actually _did_ sleep regularly - she'd have to add that one to her list of questions. He looked the tiniest bit uneasy, his posture slightly standoffish as he tried to appear braver than he obviously felt. It was almost like he believed he wasn't welcome. She hoped she might be able to change that.

A faint blush covered her cheeks as she remembered how she'd ended up burying herself in the current task. It had started with a need to fill the vacant space between them once he'd finally crossed the threshold into her house, her words welcoming and kind - even if she'd chosen to lead with a totally _idiotic_ question. Yes, asking him if he wanted something to drink had left her stumbling over her ironic inquiry and falling _straight_ into his amused gaze. He was obviously offering up that sly, devilishly handsome smirk to taunt her. _Bastard_.

It had been the kind of look that may have summoned fright in someone who knew what he was, but Emma couldn't find her fears regarding him. He didn't terrify her. He didn't spike her nerves - _well_ , not in reference to him being undead anyway. She supposed it was the years she'd spent chasing away her own demons that kept her from being so wary of his. Truthfully, she was more nervous about the part of him that seemed very much alive - that adorably arrogant yet smoldering stubborn part of him. _That's_ the man who gave her the chills.

She continued her exasperating search through the cupboards, trying to locate something that might appeal to the taste of the literally damned man in her living room. She was fresh out of anything with alcohol, the previous two nights of regret the cause of that misfortune. Coffee? No, that would keep him up all night. Wait - he was _already_ rather nocturnal….so did it _matter?_

Emma leaned her head against the wood shelf, trying not to figure out how to avoid any other obvious puns. She reached for an open box of pop tarts and stared hard at the nutrition facts. She had to find something since she wasn't about to put herself on any side of the menu - though it wasn't likely he'd accept the offer if she did.

“Everything okay?”

Emma’s body went rigid as she jumped at the voice, the careful tone making her jump. She turned to face the originating direction. He stood in the doorway with that expression of uncertainty on his face. His hair was longer now somehow and it hung slightly over his reserved stare. His lips looked smooth as he ran his tongue over the lower one, biting it nervously as he waited for her response. She hadn’t seen him quite this edgy before, his feet antsy as if he was walking on broken glass. Letting out a sigh, Emma wondered if he might allow her to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, I'm good - I just….don’t tell me you need an invitation to enter the kitchen too,” she smirked, tapping her fingers on the counter. “I can’t go handing those out to anyone, Jones.”

“Aye, I’d hope not,” he smiled weakly. “Welcoming just anyone doesn’t sound particularly wise.”

“Yet here you are. You _can_ come a little closer though,” she assured him, hoping her eyes were encouraging. “I don’t have the plague….but even if I _did_ , you’ve got experience dealing with that, right?"

“Sorry, love,” he laughed, raising an eyebrow. “I missed that little tragedy by a few centuries.”

“Not as old as you _act_ then,” she grinned as she pulled a mug from the cupboard. 

“ _Funny_ , Swan,” he replied, a genuine smile finally finding his lips. “I like to think my demeanor is rather youthful….or ‘hip’ as people say nowadays.”

Emma felt her stomach flutter a bit at the way the tension had softened in the room. He'd looked a bit haunted when he arrived, his eyes that same distant blue they'd been when he told her about the trials of war during their last conversation. He’d had that almost ghostlike appearance with his skin pale and his eyes widely searching. It was refreshing to see him find a sliver of that confidence again as smiled subtly. She watched him scratch at the rather thick stubble along as jaw, the shadows playing with the contours of his face. Feeling her breath catch in her throat, Emma tried to hold back the gasp threatening to escape her.

God, why did he have to be _so_ good looking?

He rocked on his heels a bit, his top teeth pressing into his lower lip just slightly. Emma allowed her stare to lock onto the motion of his mouth as she tried to figure out why she wasn't afraid of him. Given the way he'd taken off post bite - well, more like a _nibble_ really - it was clear that even _he_ was afraid of what he might do to her in a heated moment. The really scary part of the whole thing was Emma’s realization that maybe she _wanted_ him to do those things. Maybe she wanted him to lose a little control.

“Tea?”

“Huh?”

“Just asking what you're brewing there,” he clarified with a nod to the cup. “Should I be on the lookout for poison?”

“No poison,” Emma smirked. “ _Garlic_ on the other hand-”

“Really into this, aren't you? The whole stereotype thing?”

“Well, I don't see you jumping at the chance to set the record straight,” she commented, tilting her head. “I mean you said you wanted to talk, right?”

“I wanted to apologize,” he told her as he moved further into the room. “The other night was….I just….that never happens. Well, at least it hasn't in a very long time. I needed you to know that I didn't mean to hurt you. I’d never want to hurt you.”

“You mean you haven’t…. _bitten_ someone? At least, not for a while?”

He shuddered slightly at her question and his jaw clenched, a response that caused a tingle to run down Emma’s spine. She didn’t mean to sound harsh - being blunt and to the point just seemed to fit the bill. They were a bit beyond pleasantries now and there was something in his eyes that made her think he liked her directness. Well, maybe he just liked _her_ in general. 

“Emma, I just meant-”

“Can you….fly?”

Emma couldn’t stop the nonsensical question from leaving her lips and her eyes grew slightly mortified as she realized what she’d just inquired. Why in the _hell_ was she even wondering such a thing? Killian’s stare was slightly confused as his lips curved upward in amusement. 

“You’ve certainly developed some rather interesting beliefs about my kind, love,” he smiled, his teeth brilliantly white. “But no - I’ve yet to acquire that ability.”

“So it’s all just a bunch of lies?”

“Hmmm,” he pondered, cocking his head to the side. “I suppose that depends on what is included in this ‘all’ you speak of.”

“Well, the usual folklore I guess,” Emma shrugged, swirling a spoon in the simmering mug. “The silver, the holy water, the mind control. Do you do….I mean, does _any_ of that apply?”

He leaned back carefully against the opposite counter, his shoulders tense as he gave her one of his more serious expressions. He obviously knew what she was alluding to. There was no point in avoiding the question she truly need answered.

“Have you ever done that-” she asked, swallowing her nerves. “-with me?”

“No, Emma,” he said softly, his gaze an honest blue. “Never. Your thoughts and decisions are your own, lass. I'd never try to alter those by taking hold of your mind.”

The promise made her heart swell. She barely knew this man and she knew even less about what he truly was, but yet he seemed to respect her much more than most men in her past. He had an honorable nature about him that wasn't expected and she tried to process that as she set the spoon down to face him. 

“So not controlling them,” she continued. “But _reading_ them?”

“Can’t say I’m completely innocent in trying,” he blushed, scratching behind his ear. “But your mind isn’t easy to navigate, love. I figured that my trouble in finding out what’s going on in that head of yours is a sign that I shouldn’t continue to pry.”

“Well, thank you then,” she said hesitantly. “I guess.”

“Aye,” he smirked. “Oddly enough I’ve found I don’t need to investigate your thoughts, Swan. You’re something of an open book.”

“Oh?”

He nodded with that knowing expression and Emma felt her face redden slightly. He wasn’t lying - he could see right through her. She needed to know why he took such pride in that. What was so special about her?

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, love.”

“Well,” she said, biting her lip. “Why….why do you care about me? I mean, you don't know anything about me. I could have very easily turned out to be just some other patient you fixed up and sent home - but you're _here_ ….and you were at the drugstore.”

“Ah, yeah, well,” he hesitated, smirking with a small shake of his head. “It's a long story - too long for now. But let's just say that I might know you better than you know yourself.”

“Oh, _please_ ,” Emma grinned. “I don't think you could handle knowing much about me. My life is complicated, Killian.”

“I'd venture it’s even more so now,” he commented, his smile weak as he lifted an eyebrow. “When it comes down to it, perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it.”

Emma's breath left her throat in a stuttering gasp, her surprise at his words far too evident. That familiar fire settled in his heavy gaze and the blue color always found there burned hot. Her fingers were wrapped carefully around the handle of the mug and the steam was steadily rising as they fell into a tempting staring contest. Wait - what _was_ the actual temptation here? It wasn't as if she _wanted_ him. Watching the way his thick dark hair fell across his forehead to shield that bold blue was causing her to wonder what she really did want.

“ _Whoa_ , lass,” he said quickly, appearing quickly at her side and saving the beverage she'd nearly dragged off the counter in her stupor. “Careful. If that drink takes a tumble, the only thing either of us will be handling is the best way to clean up the floor.”

His body was cold as he set the porcelain mug back on the counter behind her, his hands resting on either side of her while his hips nearly kept her pinned against the cabinets. It was difficult to maintain a clear focus with him so close, but Emma silently added ‘superhuman strength and speed’ to her list of truths. She was caged in his intent driven embrace when the scorching feel of lust fully overwhelmed her. She wanted to know how it would feel for him to press harder - or how it might feel if he touched her. God knows how much she now wanted to do _more_ than simply touch him.

She was still in a desperate search for her composure when he gained that predatory and sinful expression, his labored breaths prompting his eyes to lock onto her hand. Emma had been so consumed by moment that nearly led to a shattered cup that she failed to noticed the sharp edge of a small chip in the mug. Her thumb had caught the dish’s barely noticeable flaw before he'd dashed to rescue it and the nicked flesh suddenly beamed at Emma without hindrance.

Her finger was bleeding - and he'd taken notice of that long before she did.

“Son of a…. _errr_ , thanks,” she stammered, her body going rigid. “Sorry about that. I should get this cleaned up.”

“Lucky it's not worse, love,” he assured her as he stared down at the tiny wound in vague fascination. “You’re alright?”

“Another instance of ‘right place, right time’ for you, Jones,” she replied, peeling away from him to grab a rag. “You've made a habit of that so far - this whole saving me thing.”

“You have never struck me as the type to need saving, Emma,” he told her. “Although being more careful certainly wouldn't be a terrible plan.”

“Yeah, probably true,” she agreed, her eyes darting down to the small prick of blood on her thumb. “Sorry I should....I mean, I'll just….so it doesn't bother you-”

“It’s okay - it doesn't bother me,” he said with darkened eyes. “Not at all, Swan.”

The truth was etched in his expression, a desirable darkness that overrode any anxiety she might have felt about him catching sight of the red threatening to run down her skin. Truthfully, nothing about him frightened her the way it should. She couldn't help the longing to know why.

“So do you want to-” she started shakily. “-help me with it….I mean since…. _well_ , since you're a doctor? Even though it's hardly anything serious-”

“Aye, I can help,” he conceded, looking up at her earnestly after slightly elevating her hand. “Do you….do you trust me?”

Did she - or _should_ she? Emma's head spun with the question, the nod of her head an unconscious effort that seemed to give him the permission he was seeking. What he planned to do with that was not obvious - well, until he worried his already swollen lower lip with his straight, skilled teeth. Enlightenment hit Emma like lightning and she swallowed hard when he pulled the cut fingertip to his lips. The small stroke of blood landed on his lips as he sucked the thumb into his mouth, his tongue soothing the tiny injury as he pulled a little more than a taste from the pricked skin. A low moan left his throat as he savored her in a manner that was strangely erotic. His eyes were nearly black, a deep navy blue that made her feel things she knew might lead down a dangerous road. She didn't care. Danger hadn't ever looked quite this appealing and like _hell_ if she wasn't going to find out why.

“Killian....”

He paused, pulling back slightly with a hint of fear in his eyes. Her voice had conjured up his name without consent and she froze as he wiped the blood from his lower lip.

“Emma, I’m….I’m sorry-”

“Hey, _no_ ,” she shushed him, grabbing his wrist with her free hand. “Don’t do that.”

He analyzed her touch, pursing his lips together as he lifted his fingers to graze hers. The feel of his skin was cold yet anything but lifeless. Emma could still feel the velvety, hot stroke of his tongue against her thumb and it nearly made her entire body tremble. Killian Jones was somehow _very_ much alive.

“You don’t-” he paused, arching an eyebrow. “-want me to stop?”

Emma didn’t know why she wasn’t able to reply. She didn’t know why she couldn’t tell him what she really wanted. She closed her eyes briefly as her fingers threaded through his, relishing the feel of his touch. She could hear his stuttering breath as he stared a hole right through her and the instant her eyes shot back open wide, his lips fused to hers with a passion that was sure to end her. His hands cupped the side of her face harder than he probably intended, his fingers running through her tangles of wavy hair as her lower back abruptly hit the edge of the counter. Her soft moan filled the space between them as he deepened the kiss, jerking her closer with the strong hand between her shoulder blades.

Speed surrounded Emma as she lost herself in the feel of his lips and the coaxing of his tongue. Her pulse was rapid as her back met the cool surface of the refrigerator, several stray magnets tumbling to the hardwood floor with a clatter. She’d barely processed the sound when she felt the wood siding of the door frame align with her spine as he braced her against it. Emma’s mind was spinning as he growled softly into her mouth, his well defined torso pressed hard against her boneless body as he held her close. His weight against hers was intoxicating and Emma finally regained enough composure to take control of the kiss, her teeth nipping gently at his swollen bottom lip.

“ _Emma_ …”

His raspy voice was full of warning and his struggle to pull back seemed to be a true challenge. His thumbs indented into her hips with a strong and tempting intent as he stationed his well worn sneakers on the floor. It should have been humorous in a way - this sarcastic, sexy, seemingly gentleman of a vampire in black Converse kissing the hell out of her against a select variety of surfaces in her kitchen. It wasn’t though. It was captivating. It was _arousing_. It was hot - blazing, scorching, bone burning _hot_.

“Killian, you don’t have to stop,” she said softly, her lips barely brushing his. “I mean I don’t _want_ you to stop.”

“Emma,” he breathed as his eyes fell closed. “I don’t want to hurt you-”

“Then you _won’t_ ,” she cut him off, moving her hands to rest at the back of his scalp. “Just kiss me.”

He hesitated only briefly, the tension snapping after a fraction of a second as he dove back into the kiss Emma knew she would never get enough of. He groaned when her hands drifted down his back to his waist, her fingertips tracing the hem of his jeans. He smiled against her lips just slightly and Emma moved to rest her hand against his belt, toying with the end of it as his body seemed to go rigid.

God, what was he going to _do_ to her?

A thousand possibly answers to that question were still running through her brain when his lips moved down her jaw to her neckline, sucking tentatively as he moved further down her body. His tongue traced the vein that had to be throbbing along her throat, his lips tender and cautious as they follow the trail. Emma tried to stabilize her rational mind and alert her senses to his possibly dangerous actions to no avail. She was too far gone.

“I won't,” he almost whispered. “I promised I wouldn't hurt you….”

“Not unless I want you to, right?” she replied, shivering at the way his smiling reaction felt against her neck. 

“Aye,” he grinned with a cunning stare. “But even then-”

“We don't have to talk about that right now,” she decided, her fingers back at the waist of his jeans as she tugged on the denim to pull him closer. “I like _this_.”

“Oh,” he smirked, laying a soft kiss on her lips. “This?”

“Yes,” she exhaled with a wanting sound. “ _That_.”

His mouth moved with fervor, ravishing her jaw down to her neck as his thumb toyed with the seam of her pants. He pressed gently along the stitching, moving his touch down her center until he hit a very sensitive spot - the one she'd been _aching_ for him to find since the second his hands started their exploration. The pad of his thumb moved in a tauntingly slow circular pattern and Emma tried desperately to bite back the pleading sound rising in her throat. She failed almost instantly and he seemed to revel in the sound, his lips kissing the space just under her ear.

“And _this?”_

“Mmmm,” Emma moaned. “Yes, t-that too.”

His finger and thumb worked in tandem, flipping the button on her jeans and pulling the zipper so the denim loosened. His touch was blunt and rapid as his fingertips skimmed the lacy hem of her underwear, the fine fabric suddenly on fire as his hand pulled it down just enough. Emma didn't have time to anticipate his actions as his fingers brushed against the heat radiating between her legs.

“Bloody _hell_ , Emma,” he groaned, his lips rough on her collarbone. “You are drenched, love.”

Emma allowed her nails to run up the back of his neck, digging into his scalp as she let out a broken gasp. Killian fingers moved slowly, pushing inside as her head fell backward. His eyes evolved into that deep blue bewildered shade as he watched her breath stutter and her skin flush. It was erotic in ways Emma had never even _dreamed_ of.

She closed her eyes briefly as a rush of space filled her mind. Her stare snapped wide open again the second she felt the cold wood of her kitchen table against her back. He’d moved them - again and almost without her noticing. His speed was intoxicating and he hovered above her, completely enraptured as his fingers thrust a little harder. Emma exhaled hard, her body vibrating under his touch as he drove her to the point of ecstasy only to pull back again. He was teasing her - and _god_ , he was good at it.

“ _Killian_ …”

“ _God_ , Emma,” he mumbled, his mouth tracing her jaw as his fingers moved back and forth. “You should _see_ yourself, love. You are so beautiful.”

His words were wrapped in that raspy, wanting tone - the one that emphasized his accent and made Emma’s blood simmer. She wondered if he sensed that. She wondered if that fact might entice him further. She tried to straighten out her thoughts, her brain sorting out what she truly wanted from this man and his obvious talent. Did she want him to consume her? To destroy her? To _bite_ her? 

“No, love,” he said softly, his lips brushing against hers. “Not this time. I just want…. _let_ me take care of you.”

Well, so much for not reading her mind. As his fingers worked diligently, winding her up and pulling her back down, Emma couldn’t find a way to be upset with him.

“Killian,” she pleaded in a near whisper. “Just…. _please_. I need-”

“I know what you need, love,” he breathed, sucking gently on her neckline. “Hold onto me.”

Emma wasn’t sure how she broke through the haze in her head to follow his direction, but her arms clasped gently around his neck. Killian growled lowly, moving his fingers more firmly as she rode them. His breath was heavy and Emma felt her heart racing as the pleasure began to heighten between her legs. His mouth was hot against her skin, the feel of it making her wonder about his fangs and what they might feel like during such a passionate bite. He'd told her not yet, but Emma hoped for later - and the lust laced efforts of his body told her that he had a similar desire. There was no returning from this instant - he was going to _ruin_ her.

“Emma, _come_ ,” he coaxed, his body pressing hard on hers. “Let go, love.”

She unraveled with a needy moan, her lips finding his as she fell over the edge she’d been teetering on for what felt like ages. Pleasure filled every inch of her body as he helped her come back to reality, a rather sweet smirk on his face as he leaned down for a kiss that was oddly tender. As he pulled back slowly, Emma found herself lost between the man’s current standing and the life he’d once had. He was a mix of the two, more alive than many people actually were - and that realization trapped her in a realm of emotions she couldn’t even begin to decipher.

“Hey,” he said softly, a half smile on his lips. “You okay?”

“Yeah - I’m….fine,” she sighed, shaking her head slightly. “More than fine.”

“You certainly know how to test a man’s ego, don’t you?”

“Mmmm,” she hummed, blinking lazily. “Like you need it.”

“I need _several_  things, love,” he laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “The first is to get that finger of yours properly bandaged.”

“Isn’t that what got us into this position in the first place?”

“It seems so,” he quipped, raising his eyebrow. “I knew being employed in the medical field would provide me with a few _interesting_ opportunities.”

“So some quick work with a band-aid,” she replied, ignoring his taunt and running a hand down his thigh. “ _Then_ what?”

“Hmmm,” he said, biting his lip. “Well, you offered me a cup of tea, _right?”_

Emma rolled her eyes at his decision, knowing full well he wasn’t going to allow her to reciprocate in any way. No, Killian Jones seemed to delight in her pleasure enough to forgo his own - well, at least for _now_. She’d change that eventually.

“Fine,” she said, her lips achingly close to his. “But you suck - you know that, right?”

“Oh, love, you have _no_ idea.”


	3. Tempt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma accepts an invitation and confronts temptation. Rated M. All rights/characters belong to OUAT - I own nothing!

Of _course_ Killian Jones would have perfect, intricate, stupidly beautiful penmanship. **  
**

Emma didn't know how many times she'd run her eyes over the letters on the parchment card that was flat on the kitchen table, but one thing was certain - she knew _exactly_ what the scrawled mixture of letters and numbers meant. She'd known from the instant she found it on the front seat of her car, wrapped carefully around the stem of a single red rose. It was so many things all at once - a request, an instruction, a secretive _invitation_. The text was simple and direct, but full of a subtle intent that gave her the chills once more as she read it again.

_**Tonight. Eight O’Clock. Consider yourself invited in, love. I'll be waiting.** _

He'd signed the card with a flourish of his first and last initials - as if she wouldn't _know_ it was him. He knew she didn't have any current cases and while his schedule had been packed with surgeries and stitches, she'd missed him. She missed everything about him actually - the way his dark hair fell across those startling blue eyes, the sporadic flashes of those brilliant white teeth, and the dangerous manner in which his lips ravished hers. Yeah, it hadn't taken long for her to give up on the charade of keeping him at arm’s length. After the night he’d shown up on her doorstep with that apologetic gaze and that dark yet dazing desire, she didn't stand a chance.

There was just no _way_ she could stay away from Killian Jones.

She couldn't explain why she was so easily drawn to him or why he seemed to feel that same magnetism, but fighting it was next to impossible. So she stopped trying - even though the clash of their schedules didn't leave much space to accommodate the need they seemed to equally possess. She smiled to herself briefly, remembering his thickly accented words when they'd met for a late night drink a few days previously.

###### 

_“Killian, you're going to be late….”_

_“Mmm-hmm,” he hummed, his lips hot on her neck. “Fortunately I doubt they'll start without me.”_

_“But isn't that….god….why they schedule surgeries in advance-” she gasped, her fingernails digging gently into his scalp. “-so you're available when needed?”_

_“Aye,” he smiled against her skin. “But a few more minutes won't hurt….”_

_“Killian,” she moaned, trying not to rut against his hand as it toyed with the button on her jeans. “You and I both know….how….busy….ahh, your day is going to be today.”_

_“Which is all the more reason to enjoy the quiet moments and right now-” he paused, slipping his hand beneath the denim. “We have a quiet moment.”_

_“Until your beeper goes off again,” she breathed, chills down her spine as his teeth skimmed her jaw. “Better go save a life, doctor.”_

_“Fine,” he growled with that gorgeous grin. “Though I'm fairly sure it's you that will be the death of me, darling.”_

_“I highly doubt that,” she blushed, her smirk matching his. “You've got that whole immortality thing going for you.”_

_“Aye,” he laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Fortunately for me.”_

###### 

Between stakeouts and scrub-in times as well as the scattered hours of sleep that had somehow been caught, they'd found a few of those quiet moments within the madness. It had been ten days since the first time though - nearly a week and a half since their _less_ than quiet scene in her kitchen and the lack of consistent time spent in his alluring presence had her _wanting_. He seemed to have a bit of skill in keeping her that way, but tonight - well, tonight was going to be different.

Tonight, he was inviting her over.

Emma felt her stomach flip flop at the idea as she spied her jacket hanging on the hook near the door. The time on her phone read 7:18 and though he’d written eight on his little note, she knew it might take a little extra time to make the drive. She watched scattered drops of rain pitter patter against the window as the wind outside picked up, taking hold of the trees so they swayed with the weather. The storm had started out as nothing more than a prediction, a weak promise made by whatever meteorologist was on duty during the five o’clock news. Yet over the next couple of hours, it had built to this - dark rolling clouds, howling wind that varied in sound, and the threat of a downpour. _Talk about ironic,_ she thought silently.

The dull noise of distant thunder met her ears as she watched darkness fall rather quickly around the rest of her house. 7:26 - it was time to go.

The rain was steady as Emma drove, maneuvering her car along the wet and newly repaved streets of downtown Storybrooke. The buildings and streetlights faded behind her as she approached the town line, making a hard right up the gravel frontage road that would lead her to his doorstep. Well, so the directions _said_.

Truthfully, she rarely journeyed the short distance beyond the forested city limits. Her job kept her plenty busy and her reasons for leaving town were minimal. She knew that the old house he called home was just inside the town boundaries, shielded by towering trees and set in total isolation. She hadn’t known it even existed until she’d done a little asking around about him, but he’d been the one to confirm it completely during a brief visit a few days earlier.

###### 

_“You should be at home,” she said softly, opening an eye to find him watching her. “Don’t you need to be back at work in like four hours? You might tempt me to retract my invitation”_

_“Aye, but watching you sleep is a temptation I don’t want to resist,” he replied, tangling his feet with hers. “I suppose I’ll sacrifice a little deprivation to indulge myself. You also need a better place than under the welcome mat to hide your spare key, love.”_

_“Funny, Jones,” she mumbled while rolling into his embrace. “Like you need sleep.”_

_“True - though I wouldn’t mind participating in such an activity if it was next to you, lass. Although a softer mattress wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”_

_“At least I have one….”_

_“You’re assuming I don’t?”_

_“I didn’t say that,” she replied, opening her eyes to find his. “But do you? I thought you’d prefer a crypt or something.”_

_“Mmmm, now look who’s funny,” he laughed, running a hand through her hair. “I have a bed - a rather large one actually. I’ll show you sometime.”_

_“Is this you inviting me to your castle, Count Dracula?”_

_“Perhaps,” he grinned, kissing her forehead. “Though I’d hardly call it a castle.”_

_“Mmmm-hmmm,” Emma smiled. “We’ll see about that.”_

###### 

She followed the dim road, slowing the car to a halt when she finally caught sight of it. A soft gasp left her lips as the windshield wipers swiped rain off the glass. _Not a castle huh,_ Emma thought with a smirk. _That_ was an understatement.

The windows were lit with the hint of firelight, the illumination just enough for her to make out the tudor style build of the old Victorian manor. Some mild searching through town records the day earlier - out of _pure_ curiosity of course - had revealed that it was once used as a boarding house for the small number of visitors Storybrooke actually managed to have each year. The individual wings of the structure were clearly spacious and perhaps inviting as they seemed to stretch across several acres, definitely further than her eyes could distinguish in the darkness of nightfall. The bricks were well worn and crisscrossed with sporadic dark wood, the vintage victims of several dissolved decades. She could make out the dull glow of multiple chandeliers through several larger windows and a well constructed archway that concealed the front doors - because yes, a place like this definitely had _two_ of them side by side. The tall rooftops looked slightly intimidating as the now pouring rain rolled off the staggered shingled surfaces. The whole place was met by a circular, wide driveway that seemed to provide a quick way in as well as out - _not_ that she needed an escape route.

No, she'd come here willingly - _excited_ even. The car moved cautiously toward the lights and all but certain safety at the edge of the dark concrete pathway. She wasn't scared. She was _intrigued_. He'd always been quick to promise he wouldn't hurt her and for some reason, that fact made her impending arrival feel almost natural - even if being there at all was completely _supernatural_.

The muted glow from the house brightened a bit as Emma moved up the driveway, debating where it might be best to park. She noticed his car - the black ‘66 Ford classic convertible he'd restored a few years earlier - stationed and covered under the arching overhang near the front entrance. Her mind jogged the memory of the first time she seen it. Well, it was more like the first time she'd _accosted_ him in it. She bit her lip, remembering him in his light blue scrubs with that messy head of hair. Honestly, when he looked like _that_ , could she _really_ be blamed for her actions?

###### 

_“Mustang, huh? I must say I expected something-” Emma smiled, massaging his scalp with anxious fingers. “-a little more mysterious. Or old.”_

_“Your jokes about my age are as top notch as always, love,” he retorted, distraction evident in his stare. “The car may be old, but I like to think of it as vintage. A true classic, darling.”_

_“Mmmm,” she mused as his lips caressed hers. “Is it fast?”_

_“Enough to make your heart race, love,” he almost whispered, his teeth grazing her ear. “Although I’d rather keep to the limits when it comes to speed, especially if I intend to break the law in….other ways.”_

_“Ah, those other ways being ‘public indecency’ apparently,” she teased, her breath staggering as he pulled on her shirt to expose her shoulder. “But I’ve gotta say it’s been awhile since I’ve made out in a car, doctor.”_

_“Well, it’s been far too long since I've done this-” he replied, kissing her throat and then her lips once more. “-and this.”_

_“Oh, please - you kissed me….mmmm, yesterday,” Emma mumbled, her palm flat on his leg as he devoured the exposed skin above her collarbone. “Not that I'm complaining.”_

_“On the contrary, Swan….though kissing you is something I'd prefer to do more frequently than every twenty four hours, I was talking-” he breathed, his fingers flexing at the zipper of her jeans. “-about this, love.”_

_“Hmmm, t-true….but we can’t….do that here,” Emma said weakly, gesturing to the parking garage surrounding them. “What if someone sees us?”_

_“Or perhaps no one will,” he countered, waggling his eyebrows. “It would be a shame if we didn't see which of us was correct. Come here-”_

_“Killian,” she nearly giggled as he pulled her onto his lap, anchoring her hands on the headrest of the driver’s seat. “You aren't playing fair.”_

_“I never said I intended to,” he smirked as he nipped gently at her lower lip. “Which you seem to be oddly okay with….”_

_“Shut up and kiss me,” she replied, spreading her thighs so she could move against him. “Please, Killian.”_

_“Manners, huh,” he taunted as his hips rutted upward slightly. “Nice touch, Swan. I think I’d prefer that word in a different tone though.”_

_“What do you….god, mean by that, Jones? You want me….to beg you?”_

_“If you’re offering-” he said between kisses, biting his lip as she writhed in his lap. “-then yes. I always want that.”_

_“Then you’re going to have to try-” she bit back as her hand trailed down his chest. “-a little harder.”_

_“Well that I can do,” he groaned, his core pushing up into hers. “Harder is a request I’m always happy to oblige.”_

###### 

Emma felt her face flush at the recollection. The fire that had burned between them that night had been scorching hot, her body flush against his as her arms clasped around his neck. She tried to remember the exact manner in which his hips thrusted upward and found herself once again wanting to feel the way he’d kept her in place with a firm grip on her lower back. She’d all but rode him into the oblivion they both seemed to want - the one that beckoned every time he touched her. She wanted to fall into that abyss and drown in the pure passion that existed between them. She could only wonder if he’d ever let her. She could only _hope_ it was the reason she was here.

She pulled her car up to the curb, opting to shut off her ignition a short distance away from the house. She figured that it wouldn’t hurt to walk a little. She was quickly thankful that she’d thrown on her black wool coat, even though the cable knit sweater she’d chosen to wear would assist in keeping her warm. Emma reached over her shoulder and behind the seat in search of an umbrella. The task was short lived as she remembered she’d left it at home, tossing in on the porch after retrieving her mail earlier that day. The rain was steady, the wind whipping water in several directions as a bolt of lightning lit up the sky behind her. Letting out a heavy sigh, she zipped up the front of her jacket. It wasn’t like she’d _melt_ \- she just had to make a run for it.

Taking a deep breath, she swung open her car door and closed it quickly behind her. Her feet were wet as she fumbled with her keys, finally locking the vehicle as a sweeping _whoosh_ caught her attention. She peered toward the house as water saturated her hair, but before she could even question the noise, he was there.

“Swan.”

His gaze was a mix of emotions - concerned and happy being the most overpowering of the bunch. She froze in place, feeling the rain run down her skin as it collected in his shaggy dark hair. It was still longer than when she’d first met him, the length a little taken with the breeze as it curled slightly behind his ear. His clothes were drenched now, but he’d definitely continued that pattern of being dressed in a devilishly handsome fashion - navy blue button down rolled up to the elbows, faded yet perfectly fitted jeans, and that silver chain that was partially shielded by the buttons left undone. Emma silently thanked the whistling wind for helping to drown out the sound of her pounding pulse.

“Fancy m-meeting you here,” she teased, a shiver on her shoulders. “You didn’t have to c-come out in the r-r-rain.”

“I’m glad I did though. You’re soaked,” he commented with a soft smile, his eyes fiercely protective and oh so blue. “Let’s get you inside.”

She barely felt her feet move, but in an instant they were on his front steps and out of the torrential storm. He smiled softly at her, rubbing her arms in an effort to conjure warm as she shook her head at his display of impossible speed. Well, that was one perk of having a supernatural boyfriend. _Whoa_ , wait…. _what?_

That’s _not_ what he was - or was he?

Emma shuddered a bit at the silent question as the rain pitter pattered behind them. Killian arched an eyebrow as his hand gripped the heavy handle to the door and pushed it open. The hinges creaked just slightly as the heavy dark wood barrier moved forward. The small foyer area was well lit and warmly welcoming, the feel of home coaxing her inside.

“Emma,” he said cleverly, a humorous glint in those deep blue eyes. “Would you like to come in?”

“I thought you'd never ask,” she returned with a grin. “But it does look as if it might be a _little_ cozier than standing in the stormy weather.”

“Hmmm,” he groaned, his eyes challenging. “I’ll give you _cozy_ ….”

She hurried inside, her feet landing on a lavish red rug as the door shut behind them. The distant crackle of a fireplace lured her further inside and he pulled her coat from her shoulders as she took in the beautiful surroundings. She caught sight of the walls as she entered, noting that the selection of art hung on them seemed to cover several centuries. The frames were embossed and intricate, made with with fine metals and displayed in a most decorative fashion. Each picture seemed to hold a story and perhaps a secret, the oil paint and charcoal smudges making her wonder why he’d chosen each individual piece. It awakened the historian in her and Emma couldn’t help the questions her brain quickly conjured. Biting her tongue, she stowed the inquiry for later. _That_ wasn’t the reason she was here.

No, _he_ was the reason - the drenched, dark, desirable doctor behind her. Undead and all.

“I should-” he started, gesturing to his wet attire. “-grab a dry shirt. Let me just run upstairs quickly. Do you need anything other than my permission to explore while you wait?”

“I think I'm fine,” she mused, loving the fact that he knew she'd get up to something while he was away. “In fact, I don't think I even require _your_ permission. But hurry back?”

He smirked at that, fire building in his dark gaze as the remaining rain rolled off his face. God, he looked _good_ \- and it was all but obvious that he _knew_ it. The thought of how cool and wet his lips would be in that instant had barely crossed her distracted mind when the space between them lapsed and his hands found her waist. A firm pull was all it took for him to tempt her into an intoxicating kiss, one where his mouth warred with hers for control. Emma's back hit the front door with a little more force than she was expecting and his touch quickly soothed the expanse of skin between her shoulders. He kept her pinned between his frame and the door for what definitely wasn't long enough, kissing her with that same promising passion he always offered. The moment was broken only by the muted chine of an old fashioned clock echoing off the walls of a distant room.

“Count on it, love,” he committed softly. “I shan't be long.”

He was gone before she could reply, the soft whooshing sound following him as she smiled. It was a tiny case of stereotype reigning true and for some reason, the realization was oddly fulfilling. Killian Jones and his supernatural speed would never cease to entertain her.

She was almost glad that he’d suspected she’d snoop while he took to ridding himself of wet clothes - it would save her from having to explain her wandering later. There was no way she wasn’t going to investigate the humbly described manor belonging to the man who continued to captivate her.

The ceilings were vaulted in his house, stretching higher as she stepped into the large living room. It was brightened by a large, bronze chandelier and the sound of a scratchy record player. It was playing at a faint volume, but enough for Emma to distinguish the tune as _‘I Put A Spell On You’._ She hummed it slightly as she traversed the wood floor with curiosity that could certainly be the downfall of a cat or two. Her eyes darted between the corners of the space, unsure of where to start.

The walls were a solid red accented with dark wood paneling in a few places, a tone that tied the entire room together in a Victorian sort of style. There were scattered pieces of decor - an array of antique chairs and end tables with clawed feet, various lanterns and candles, and matching gold plated mirrors on each side of a separate arching doorway. Emma stopped right in her tracks at the sight found through that second entryway. 

There was a fireplace - a huge, open, crackling fireplace complete with detailed crown moulding and a granite mantle hanging above it. Her eyes continued to move, trailing upward to find what had to be a very crucial part of his history. It was a shield, some sort of ancient and worn down with two swords the crossed through the middle of it. Each blade had a detailed handle, crafted in the same silver and red stones that she’d observed on the ring he wore. There had to be a connection between them - well, _possibly_.

“I wondered if I might find you here,” his voice said from several paces behind her. “If you’re cold, this is a good place to warm up.”

Emma turned to find him leaning casually near the wall on the opposite side of the room. His hair was tousled, still slightly wet from the storm outside and he ran an absent hand through it. His shirt was pressed and black as the night, the sleeves rolled up as he finished the last two buttons - because clearly he couldn’t have _finished_ that before he came back to find her.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, hoping her smile confirmed it. “It’s a beautiful fireplace though.”

“It is,” he agreed, rubbing his hands together as he walked toward her. “If you wouldn’t mind leaving it for a moment though, I do have something I’d like to show you.”

“Is this the part where you show me the dungeon?”

“Again with the myths, love - though that one seems a _bit_ kinky I must say.”

“ _Not_ what I meant,” she narrowed her eyes, slapping him in the chest. “I’m just wondering if I should be concerned about this personal tour.”

“Emma-”

“Hey, I’m kidding,” she said quickly, her hand on his arm. “You know that I’m-”

“Not afraid?”

“No,” she promised. “I’m not.”

“Okay,” he finally said, a soft smirk curving at the corner of his mouth. “Then come. This way, love.”

###### 

“So if it’s not a _castle_ ,” she teased, following him up the hallway that stretched to another corridor of the house. “What would you prefer I call it?”

“Well, _technically_ it’s a manor - a boarding house more than anything though,” he explained, his bare feet padding quietly on the floorboards. “Built in early 1900’s by my father’s father - he was a carpenter by trade.”

“Did you grow up here?”

“For a time,” he answered. “Not much that I remember though. My father took off when I was still quite young and my older brother and I were sent off to live with a distant aunt once my mother got sick.”

“That sounds like a challenging childhood.”

“Aye,” he nodded, his smile weaker this time. “But personal history aside, it’s fortunate I ended up back here. After the war, I spent some time traveling - Paris, London, even a few weeks in Italy. Mostly trying to keep out of suspicion’s way while I sorted through this new life….or _not_ life I’d been handed. I came back here after reading through an old journal of my brother’s to find the place boarded up. I spent a few days in town, inquiring here and there only to find out nobody knew much about the house and even less about its history. I decided to stay a while, did a little restoration, and here we are.”

“Well, it’s….breathtaking, Killian,” Emma complimented. “Stunning even. You’ve done a beautiful job breathing life back into it.”

“It would seem,” he grinned, pausing at the end of the hallway next to a closed door. “Come this way, lass.”

Emma nodded, her mind drenched in curiosity at what he might be concealing when he shoved the door open to a large sort of alcove structured room. He tilted his head sideways to prompt her to enter and it didn’t take long for his hand to guide her feet in the right direction.

“Killian, what are-”

“I said I wanted to show you something,” he reminded her, placing his palm against her back. “I just thought you might like this part of the house.”

Emma’s head was in a daze as she barely registered his comment, her feet moving freely as she wandered ahead of him into the vast, open space. The room itself was sunken, the center of it clad with leather couches and antique armchairs as well as a narrow bar top that appeared to house a variety of libations. She smiled internally upon noticing the half empty glass of what was surely rum on the mantle - perhaps he’d been using a drink to summon some courage before she arrived. The furniture was simple save for the occasional pillow or lavish throw, much of the accents fashioned in a deep red that made Emma’s whole body tingle. The entire area was littered with lamps of various sizes and structure, each of them illuminated in a way that gave reference to what many would call ‘mood lighting’. It was intimate and beautiful, a warm space within the world of this man she was wanting to know more about. Maybe this room held the answer to some of her questions.

Well, it gave her the resolution to at least one _suspected_ fact. Killian Jones was a reader.

The walls were lined with dark mahogany, part of it stretching overhead into arched beams and the rest of it structured into even shelves. The horizontal wood surfaces were filled what had to be the richest collection of literature she’d ever seen. The books made home in every single corner of the room, leaving no extra space unclaimed as they wove together a place Emma wouldn’t mind getting lost in - the library of the Jones manor. _Unbelievable_ , she thought as her feet finally adhered to the floor.

“So I was right then, love?”

His fingertips at her waist brought her back to reality, her head turning slowly as she found his victorious grin. His touch was cold, making her skin sizzle as he studied her. She finally gave him the smile he was clearly hoping for and relaxation landed on his shoulders.

“Killian, this is….are _all_ of these books yours?”

“Aye - well, mine combined with those belonging to a few ancestors,” he clarified, lowering his hand to clasp hers. “It’s the product of decades of collecting I suppose.”

“Hmmm, quite the inheritance then?”

“Something like that,” he nodded with a laugh, tugging her in the direction of the largest bookcase. “Mostly classics here - Dickens, Hemingway, Fitzgerald….Stoker.”

“As in _Bram?”_

He blushed with that trademark smirk, sighing in exasperation as he reached for a yellow cover on the top shelf. He pulled it down and gently blew the dust off the red embossed title before extending it to her. The gesture made her heart flutter and she couldn’t help raising an eyebrow.

“Well, look at _that_ ,” she taunted, her fingers tracing the words. “Your autobiography.”

“Nice try, love, but while I’m as old as the book, I’m not the inspiration,” he retorted, flipping open to the front page and pointing to the date. “This is, however, a first edition - though I’m not actually sure who it belonged to originally. If only the text could talk, right?”

“Well, if it _could_ ,” Emma started, her fingertips grazing the antique paper. “What would it say?”

His eyes fused to hers as the space between them seemed to cease. Emma wasn’t sure how it was possible - neither of them had moved. Yet somehow, the air grew thick and scarce in a way that made her head hazy. He didn’t actually have to use any of those little tricks of the trade with her - Killian could control her every reaction with that tantalizing stare.

“I’d assume the book would tell the truth,” he decided, not breaking the trance he appeared to be stuck in. “Perhaps give us its best line as temptation.”

“The little quip about the dead traveling fast?”

“No, love,” he grinned, his accent rough with the trace of a laugh. “I prefer a _different_ one.”

He flipped a few pages, his sight narrow on the words as Emma watched him. His hands navigated the novel with precise expertise - almost like a diligent captain would steer his finest ship. It was a fitting comparison seeing as how his eyes were that stormy sea blue and his presence constantly left her trying to find her land legs.

“Find what you’re looking for?”

“Aye - here,” he confirmed, his gaze heavy and serious. “Just where it _always_ is.”

“Hmmm,” she said softly. “Are you going to read it to me?”

She expected his vision to lower back to the text. She expected the sound of his voice to repeat the words that had been conjured by the famous author all those years ago. She expected it to be poetic and thoughtful, that familiar feeling settling in her stomach as she waited. She was _wrong_ \- so completely and _wonderfully_ wrong.

He stepped forward, his body coaxing her backward as he moved. It didn’t take long for her shoulder blades to bump the bookcase, pinning her carefully against it as his arm lifted and placed the book back on the top shelf. His eyes followed the work of returning the text to its place and trailed back downward to meet her slightly perplexed stare after a moment. Killian’s hands braced on each side of her, caging her in his hold with intent as he set a relaxed grip on the shelves. They were _close_ \- close enough that Emma could feel the heat of his breath on her neck as he placed gentle kiss there. They were walking a fine line between control and not - and she couldn’t help her growing desire to find out what ‘not’ would be like.

“There are darknesses in life-” he started, his tone dangerously low and ragged. “-and there are lights….”

His lips traced the length of her neck, moving as a torturously teasing pace from her jaw to her collarbone. His tongue laved gently against her flesh when he moved back up and he pulled his teeth carefully along the curve of her ear before nipping gently. His hands remained in place, keeping him steady as he all but _worshipped_ her.

“You are one of the lights-” he continued, his words honest and hypnotic. “-the light of all lights.”

Emma barely processed the line he’d borrowed from the book, the meaning behind it all a mess in her mind as he moved his mouth back to hers. They tangled quickly in a needy kiss as Killian’s hands flew to her hips and his thumbs pressed gently to keep her balanced. His hands were all over instantly as she moaned against his lips, his anxious fingers tugging on the fabric of her shirt as he kissed her hard.

“Emma - _god_ ….”

His plea was desperate, her name rolling off his tongue in a breathy tone as his hands cradled her face. They moved in perfect rhythm as he tangled his talented fingers in her damp hair, twisting them in a manner that made Emma’s toes tingle. She gasped against his lips as he pushed the fabric off her shoulder, stretching the collar of her sweater enough to display the skin there. His teeth caressed the exposed area and the sound the Emma bit back was anything but human. Her hands drifted toward the front of his shirt, tracing the cloth he’d just recently buttoned. He trembled a bit at the shift in her position and the brief reaction prompted Emma’s confidence. Maybe she could regain a little stability by taking away some of his.

“Swan….what are you-”

Emma fisted her hands in the collar of his shirt, spinning them so they swapped positions faster than she meant to. His back slammed into the bookcase before he could complete his question and she grinned when a few well worn copies of old classics fell from the shelf. His eyes were confused but completely predatory as she resumed kissing him. He tried to move forward in an attempt to take back his advantage, but she shoved him back into the furniture so it shook with defeat. He gasped, a soft growl leaving his lips as her hands split the fabric at the middle of his shirt. Emma’s breath hitched when she yanked hard, her hands moving in opposite directions as he grunted and the sound of scattered buttons echoed off the walls.

He was losing it quickly, barely clinging to his control when he tugged her sweater over her head and tossed it to ground. Her hands were hard at work on his jeans at the same time he began to pull at hers. They moved together, their actions synchronized until simultaneous denim hit the floor. It was only then, as his index finger trailed back up her arm to her chin, that she paused to look at him.

“Killian-”

“I know, love,” he breathed, his lips back on hers as his hands slid to the back of her thighs. “I _know_.”

He lifted her, squeezing the underside of her legs gently as she wrapped them around his waist. Reaching back, Emma gripped the smooth surface of the shelf for support and he held her tight with his hands at her lower back. He seemed to keep her stationed so effortlessly, allowing the dark cotton of his boxer briefs to brush against her black lace in a rigid movement. One of her hands fell to his shoulder, grasping for support as she bit her lip with a hushed whimper.

“You better watch those rogue teeth, love,” he breathed, his forehead falling to her shoulder as he thrusted up hard. “You…. _god_ , you don't know….what you're doing, Swan.”

“I'm more curious about why we’re doing _this_ -” she teased, grinding down hard on him through the friction of the fabric. “-with so many clothes on.”

“ _Emma_ ….”

She knew that tone - that warning, wanting, wishing timbre of the man who was about to give in to god knows what. She met that anxious voice a few times before in instances similar to this one. They'd never made it to this point though - this burning edge where all he needed was a final push. She wanted to know what came next. She wanted them both to be too far gone to turn back.

Wrapping her arms around his neck while he vibrated against her provided the support he was struggling to provide. It wasn't that he didn't possess the strength - no, he'd proven more than once that he could gather her in his hold with ease. It was the fact that he was completely _wrecked_. It was the way he was losing himself in her. It was his _surrender_.

“Killian, _please_ ,” she begged, toying with waistband as he braced her against the shelf. “Just….take these _off_.”

Her hand brushed against him as he slowed for a moment, her fingers stroking him through the fabric. Emma let out a soft moan at the feel of him in her loose grip. They’d had a few heated moments over the past ten days where his size had been suggested through the bulge in his pants, but taking him in her hand was still startling. God, she wanted to _feel_ him in more ways than just that.

She whimpered softly as he rutted a little harder, his gasp needy and pleading as he set a new rhythm. His own fingers slipped behind the black lace between them and he hummed at the feel of her. Emma dug her fingers gently into his shoulder as he let out a breathy curse. Hypnotized by his caress, she barely noticed when their remaining clothing fell at their feet.

“Bloody _hell_ , Emma,” he growled, thrusting his fingers upward. “You are…. _so_ ….”

Emma sunk her teeth into her lower lip as his free hand pressed hard on her spine. She shivered as his length slid through her entrance, gathering wetness as he moved back and forth. The teasing sensation was pure torment, building at an excruciating pace and her eyes fell close as she rolled her hips into his. Emma knew he felt it too - the irresistible urge to take that final step. She wanted it. She wanted _more_.

The sharp snap of teeth at her ear caught her attention and her pulse increased tenfold as his hot breath grazed her ear. His gasp stuttered and he pulled back a bit, his fingers indenting deep on her legs as he froze in place.

“ _Emma_ ….”

She blinked lazily, allowing the world to come into focus once again. He looked like he was on the verge of destruction - dark hair damp with sweat and the remnants of the rainstorm, eyes wild with blue fury, and lips bruised red. But now, there was a contrast to them - the pearly white, sharp pair of fangs that had clicked into place in the moment of passion.

Fascination filled Emma’s stare as she braced her hands at the back of his scalp. She watched the way he tried to hide them as he pressed his lips together, but her hand reached forward to touch his bottom lip. Her thumb slid across it, attempting to coax him into parting his mouth again. He wasn’t able to resist after a moment and he kissed the pad of her thumb carefully before widening his mouth to reveal the transformed teeth.

Emma didn’t know why it had taken this moment for it all to come full circle, but as her index finger pressed gently on the point of one of the fangs and she watched his irises darken considerably, it was suddenly clear. She wanted him - _all_ of him. She wanted him to bite her.

“Killian….”

“Emma,” he breathed, lowering her to the ground. “ _No_.”

“Why?”

He didn’t say anything, merely shaking his head as he gripped the shelf. He was fighting a losing battle, his bones locked and his face strained as he finally took a step back. She couldn’t pinpoint his expression, but he looked some sort of angry….though not at her - at himself.

“Killian, what are you doing?”

“Emma, stop-”

“ _No_ ,” she said firmly, stepping toward him. “Talk to me.”

“Emma, I _can’t_. I won’t-”

“Tell me why.”

“Because I’m not going to hurt you!”

“Killian, you won’t,” she tried, her hand on his cheek. “I _know_ you won’t.”

“Emma, it’s reckless,” he stammered as he turned away from her touch. “I can’t control myself around you as it is and _that_ ….I don’t know what will happen if I….just _no_. It’s not safe.”

“Killian-”

“No, Emma….I could _kill_ you….and I won’t risk that. You don’t want that.”

“ _You_ don't get to tell me what I want, Killian.”

The retort seemed to shock him. He stilled as he worried his lower lip, his fangs now retracted. He looked at her with hesitation, his eyes wide at her raised voice. His bare feet were firm on the floor and his silence was her opening. She _had_ to tell him - she had to say everything she’d been thinking since she the moment she found out what he was.

“Killian, I know it’s dangerous. I know you’re scared and I know you don’t trust yourself,” she acknowledged, reaching for his hands. “But _I_ trust you. You make me feel.... _alive_. I’m not afraid of you or _anything_ about you - especially this.”

“But you don’t have to-”

“I want _you_ , Killian,” she said firmly. “I want all of you - and this is part of it.”

“Emma,” he sighed, staring studiously at their intertwined hands. “What are you saying?”

“I want to be yours,” she almost whispered, resting her free palm on his chest. “Is that what you want?”

The world stood still for a moment, giving Emma’s mind time to reel as she watched him. His face was stoic as his ragged breath tried to find composure. His mouth opened and closed without words several times and he gasped more than once. She watched him fight his instincts and then trade them for some different ones as his eyes filled with that blazing intent. His feet moved slowly as he shook his head, not in refute but rather in pure disbelief. It was the look of a vampire who wasn’t giving up, but one of the man who was giving in. He lifted her in his arms, pulling her legs around his naked waist again as the one word she’d been dying to hear finally fell from his lips.

“ _Yes_.”


	4. Indulge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we go :] I own nothing except my guilty pleasures regarding Colin O'Donoghue and his entire existence.

The world was a blur around her, the rich reds and golds of the walls and it's adorning art melting together as her mind went dizzy. The floor seemed to vanish between her bare feet and the light feel of air beneath her body replaced the tingle of the hardwood on her toes. Killian’s arms were strong, one palm pressed hard against her lower back and the other hand holding her jaw as his kiss deepened. His fingers tangled in her damp hair, twisting loosely as he pulled her body tighter against his. It was like he was trying to swallow that single word - that agreement she'd given him. This kiss was his forfeit. It was the final breaking point of his last thread of resolve. It was his complying promise to walk the thin line between existence and execution, but his broken ability to resist was not where the actual threat was waiting.

No, Emma was almost sure his lips and that thing he did with his tongue were going to be the _true_ end of her. She was also positive that somehow, he’d never allow such a thing. 

No, this was Killian. He'd keep her safe. He'd protect her. He’d _care_ for her. He'd ravish her - and he would completely and totally _devour_ her. That combination of things was worth the sacrifice. If indulging in the possibility of this man was a sin, then she would gladly take the next available ride to hell.

“ _Emma_ …”

Her name caught hard in his throat as he slowed his unnatural speed, bracing her against the intricate brass railing of the stairs. She'd barely noticed the way he had literally swept her _right_ off her feet and up the long hallway to the foyer. His lips fell on her neck in a heated trail as she recalled the last time they’d been in this position. It was a stance full of that same fire, only the solid wood door that he’d held her up against was now replaced with the cold metalwork currently making indents in her back.

He'd said he couldn't fly, but the way he yanked her close to his chest while he sped up the staircase was making her question that. They spun quickly as he lowered Emma to the ground and her hands pushed hard on his bare, solid stomach. Killian’s broad shoulders hit the deep red wall to the left of the upstairs landing with a dull thud, the noise sounding through the echo accommodating space. She didn’t mean to shove him so roughly, but the shock that filled his expression was immediately followed by a feral grin that awakened something dark in her.

She wanted to _ravage_ him - every inch and every _single_ decade of him. If she was to be his, then _he_ was going to be _completely_ hers.

“ _Killian_ ,” she choked out, biting her lip as he latched back onto her neck. “Where’s, _oh_ , your….bedroom?”

“Here, love,” he breathed, pulling her back into his embrace. “This way.”

Emma blinked hard, only to find that he’d carried them at that lightning speed into a large, low lit room that she’d only ever dreamed about. The ceiling was high and the walls decked in exposed brick and wood. Her eyes were drawn to the fireplace crackling to the side of the wide open doorway, the large mantle hanging over it bare but supporting a large oil painting of a navy ship. There were large windows tiled in frosted glass that would probably allow light to dance through them when the sun rose. They were concealed slightly by heavily woven curtains that hung the entire length of the walls, brushing the wood floor below. The position of two towering lamps pulled her vision to the opposite side and a soft gasp left her lips when she noticed his bed. It was huge - four tall, thick wooden posts and silk sheets with oversized pillows. It was neatly made, a characteristic fact of this tidy man she’d fallen for but also an observation that needed be be rectified immediately.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, love?”

His hands were firm at her waist as his tender tone grazed her ear. Emma allowed her eyes to close as she absorbed his oh so soft touch, wanting to melt into it and hoping he’d catch her if she did. Something told her he would. Of _course_ he would.

“Either you’re having second thoughts-” he said softly, moving around to face her. “-or you’re seriously concerned about my decorating sense.”

“I’m _not_ ….and it’s beautiful,” she smirked, dragging her hands down his chest. “So I can assure you, Dr. Jones, _my_ thoughts are elsewhere.”

“Ah,” he grinned, kissing her shoulder. “Somewhere I might be invited?”

Emma mused silently at his question, still a bit enthralled by the fact that he couldn’t read her thoughts. She was even more flattered by the fact that he was choosing not to try. The idea of him being that man - that dashing gentleman from over a century ago - was intriguing. It was a man she wanted to know more about and a territory she longed to explore. Just not tonight. No, tonight was about something even _more_  tempting.

“Swan?”

His inquiring use of her name pulled her back to the moment and Emma took in the sight of him standing a stride away from her. The dull glow from the lamps nearby offered a shadowy view of his bare body and tracing the lines of his muscular frame was something Emma couldn’t pass up on. He had wide shoulders, ones that were accompanied by strong arms and those skilled hands so was so fond of. His chest was defined and covered with dark hair that trailed down his torso to his long, lean legs. She couldn’t help the way her eyes hinged on the generous length bobbing against his flat stomach. She bit her lip gently, watching him with callous curiosity as he seemed to do the same to her. It was an erotic pause in the midst of everything and despite her mind’s desire to gaze at the naked man before her, her body seemed to want something more.

“Emma,” he said softly, his hand reaching down to stroke the hardness between his legs. “Come _here_.”

He’d barely said the words when she descended toward him, her hands firm on his biceps as she nudged him toward the bed while tangling him in a heated kiss. His calves bumped the bottom of the wood bed frame and he stumbled slightly, pulling back from the kiss just enough to grasp the sides of her face. His eyes were that beyond blue color, simmering and wanting as he stared purposefully at her.

“Emma, you’re sure?”

She gave him a subtle nod, trying to assuage his uncertainty while containing her escalating desire to _obliterate_ him. He smirked lightly as he took notice of her lack of composure before diving back into the kiss. His lips explored hers in a frenzy, moving carefully and callously all at once. He nipped at her lower one, prompting her mouth to open so his tongue could find hers. Emma drove her hands into his dark hair as he smiled into the kiss, his confidence quickly returning as he sets his hands on her bare hips.

“Do you _always_ have to be-” she taunted, pushing hard on his shoulders until his back fell against the fabric of the sheets with that stunned expression. “-so smug about it?”

He didn’t reply, opting instead to pull her mouth back down to his as she straddled him. He groaned when she slid to sit on the lower part of his stomach, her damp core rubbing against him as his hand held firmly on the back of her scalp. God, she _loved_ that sound.

“Bloody _hell_ , Emma,” he growled, tearing his lips from hers for a moment. “You are so wet.”

“I know,” she gasped, a slightly inhuman sound falling from her lips when he gripped her thighs. “You just…. _god_ , you….seem to do that to me.”

“I will _never_ ….apologize for….that, love-”

“Mmmm,” Emma hummed, grinding against him. “Good. God, that's _good_.”

Their fiery kiss resumed and Killian’s thumbs anchored his hands on her hips, his fingernails digging gently as she writhed against him. Holding her steady, he let her set the pace and Emma was positive she would combust before they even started. He cursed softly when their mouths parted for a moment, the explicit words telling her he was equally affected as he slowly teased the length of her spine with his fingertips. Chills surged across her skin and his teeth caressed her jaw as he grinned.

_Cocky bastard_ , she thought as he kissed her neck with the following sweep of his tongue.

Emma was quickly hypnotized into the pattern his mouth was following, so much so that his swift movement caught her off guard when he flipped them. Landing on her back, the luxurious silk under her burning skin made her shiver and she fought to catch her hindering breath as he gazed down at her. His eyes were dark and determined, like the silent blue calm before a raging black storm. Emma wanted to _drown_ in them.

“You are an absolute _wonder_ , Emma Swan,” she said softly, hovering and threading his leg between hers. “A beautiful temptress who I doubt I've ever been able to resist.”

“Then _don't_ ,” she told him, placing her hand at the back of his neck and pulling his mouth closer. “Just kiss me.”

He let out a single, untamed grunt as his lips resumed hers and he took her free hand in his firm grip. Threading her fingers through his, Killian lifted and pressed their linked hands into the open space the sheets near her head. Emma felt her entire body vibrate and her senses soared when his fingers slid across her palm, fusing them more into the mattress and the manic moment. Her skin was flushed and on fire - the skin she wanted him to sink his _teeth_ into. It was with every single second and every movement of his excruciatingly toned body, she fell more and more victim to that twisted desire.

They'd only just begun and there was zero sanity in sight. Emma quickly decided that if this was her demise, she was one hundred _percent_ willing to fall into it.

“ _Killian_ ,” she pleaded, her hips pushing up into his. “I need you. I want….to _feel_ you.”

“Emma, I…. _god_ , I want you….love,” he gasped, dragging his hard length through her wet core in a teasing test. “Say it again. Say you want this.”

“God, I want it - _please_ , Killian,” she whimpered as her fingernails pressed into his shoulders. “All of it. All….of _you_.”

He bucked forward, thrusting in firmly as his lips fused to hers again. The kiss was ragged and wild as his tongue tangled with hers and Emma moaned helplessly. She was sure that the sheets and the man currently pressing her into him were about to swallow her whole, but as his hips began to move at a slow and calculated pace, she found herself wanting to get lost in the bed and the man unraveling her. 

“Killian…. _yes_ ,” she breathed, her voice shaking. “ _Harder_. I….I want _more_.”

His efforts spiraled at the sound of her pleading words, the power behind the tantalizing drag of him along her walls multiplying at a rate Emma could have never prepared for. His breath escaped him with a soft groan as he braced his hands on each side of her head, his hips jerking forward and pulling a begging moan from her throat as he slid back and forth in a rhythm that would wreck them both. His accent was wrapped loosely around his incoherent words as her hands slid up his back with a hard press. 

The moment was fleeting and blurred in her hazy head, the sudden exposure of his fangs not something she saw but rather evidence that she felt as his pulled them lightly across her bare shoulder. His tongue followed their path in a soothing act though the sharp teeth left barely visible marks. A shiver tore across her skin and Emma arched against him, coaxing his mouth to move with purpose. He set a firm path of kisses from the expanse of skin between her breasts all the way up to her neck. Emma’s veins throbbed, a pulse beating in time with the artery his tongue was tracing. His hips still moving against hers, Killian lowered his mouth to her ear with an edgy whisper.

“ _Emma_ ,” he breathed. “Let me…. _tell_ me, love….”

“ _Please_ , Killian,” she moaned, adrenaline rushing to her head as her nails dug into his back. “Do it. _Bite_ me.”

The moment froze in a flash of sharp pain on her neck, the skin just under her jaw pulsing with pleasure as he growled softly. He sucked hard as his hand cradled her head and the sound that felt from Emma’s lips was unlike any other she could ever remembering making before. He thrust harder as he drank, his actions creating a passion that didn’t seem plausible. Emma knew she should be losing consciousness as he slowly drained the life coursing through her body, but feeling the hum of his quenched lips was causing her to lose nothing but her wits. Her heart raced as he pulled back, letting out a gasping breath as his forehead dropped against hers.

“Emma, _come_ ,” he begged, lowering his lips to the puncture on her neck. “I want you to come, love.”

“God, _Killian-_ ”

Her body pushed up against his and he grunted, the push and pull of him inside her almost too much for either of them to bear. Emma felt herself falling and a pleading cry pulled her under, her fingernails dragging hard from his shoulder blades to his waist. He winced at her reaction and slammed upward once more, his release finding him as Emma rode out hers. They continued in tandem, his hands guiding her mouth into a final kiss as the final seconds of ecstasy wore down and his head fell hard against her shoulder. Emma’s head was light and clouded with something she’d never experienced before - a likely combination of blood loss and total nirvana. Neither of them moved for a moment and Killian drew a final lick slowly up her neckline. His breath found him again after a moment and he lifted his body weakly, that pair of eyes as blue as they always were.

“Emma, love,” he said cautiously, rolling over and falling to his back on the bed. “I’m….that was….are you okay? Did I hu-”

“No - _no_ , you didn’t,” she quickly confirmed, not wanting to give him any opportunity to doubt what had just happened. “That was just….”

Her words trailed off as her mind twisted itself into oblivion, his flesh warmer than usual as their naked bodies brushed one another. His arm wrapped around her waist as he pulled her to his chest, running his fingertips up and down her back as relaxation overtook her.

“Aye, darling - it definitely _was_ ,” he smirked, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Rest, love. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”

Exhaustion hit Emma like a runaway train and her eyes closed as she listened to his breath even out. She barely felt him pull the sheets over them as she drifted into a sated sleep, but she heard his whispered words - even if he didn’t want her to.

“I’m _here_ , Emma. I promise I’ll be here. Sleep, love.”

###### 

Emma’s eyes fluttered open to darkness and an unknown hour, one that was oddly comfortable and quiet. The room around her was lit only by the crackle of the fireplace as it died down and the aching glow of her sated soul. She stared up at the ceiling a moment, taking notice of the skylight she’d missed earlier - a little detail she’d not seen before due to a rather _worthy_ distraction of course. As her vision analyzed the glass, she wondered how many nights he’d done the same. The stars twinkling vaguely made her believe he’d probably found counting and considering them to be a tempting way to pass the time. After all, what had he done at night before this - before…. _her?_

The man in question wasn’t hard to find even in the dimness of his late night bedroom. Emma rolled to her side, trying to keep silent as she watched him. He’d dressed in long black sweatpants while leaving his chest bare as he rested as arm on the mantle above the flames. He was stoic and motionless save for the shallow breath he was drawing and the air he was leaving. The lack of light in the room allowed the shadows to play with his features and he looked focused in a way that Emma couldn’t quite decipher. Something was clearly complicating his mind - or maybe it was _someone_. She smiled to herself at the thought. 

“You should be asleep, love.”

His voice was faint but cloaked in a sweetness that made her breath hitch. She’d always had a weakness for that thick accent and the way it sounded under the cover of night. This time, his words were almost sleepy as he tilted his head adorably in the dark and Emma quickly realized that she had more than just a simple weakness.

“I was,” she sighed, snuggling further into the pillows. “Now I’m not.”

“I see that,” he laughed lightly, his grin a little more relaxed. “Astute observation skills and all.”

He headed back toward her with those skilled, swaggering steps that hypnotized Emma as the silk sheet kept her warm. His hair was a dark, disheveled mess and she couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel when she ran her fingers through it. His eyes were a bright blue that was quite visible considering the lack of illumination surrounding them and Emma allowed herself to fall into them once again. He was cautious as he sat on the edge of the mattress, bending down to kiss her. His lips were soft and still slightly swollen from the assault they’d endured earlier. Time seemed to pause in that familiar fashion as his tongue moved against hers. She liked this - this whole losing herself in him and what he was. She wanted that. She wanted it _indefinitely_ \- god help her.

“Here, love….”

He pulled two fingertips to his mouth, a quick glimpse of fangs nicking his flesh until a small trickle of blood threatened to run down his hand. He moved quickly, pressing his fingers against the sore space on her neck. Emma jumped a little at his touch, her surprise amusing him as he trailed his thumb over the wound. The pain faded fast and their eyes locked, awaiting the conversation that definitely needed to happen.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore,” Emma replied, watching him pull his hand back. “I mean, it didn’t _really_ anyway.”

“You’d say that regardless, wouldn’t you?”

“It would be cliche to say you know me too well, right?”

“Stubborn lass,” he grinned, holding his fingers up to show that the bite marks were gone. “That will help though….with the healing.”

“I thought you were just trying to transmit some sort of blood-borne illness,” she teased. “I know you enjoy your work, doctor, but I’ve heard that hepatitis isn’t much of a party.”

“ _Ah_ , you’re correct there,” he laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear as he moved to lay next to her. “Although infecting you with something would make regular visits to my office a necessity. Perhaps there _is_ something to your idea, love-”

“Very funny,” Emma mumbled, nuzzling his bare chest as he wrapped her in his arms. “What happened to ‘do no harm’?”

“It still very much applies,” he told her. “I’m not about to let anything happen to you, Swan.”

The honesty in his promise was astounding and pure, the same clear commitment that had brought her here. His lips pressed against her hair as realization wrapped around Emma’s head. It made sense now.

“So that’s how you did it,” she peered up at him. “When you found me in the alley. I was hurt and….you healed me.”

“You’ve sure got a _lot_ of confidence in my medical skills, love,” he taunted. “Don’t think I could have done it without vampire blood?”

“ _Killian_ ,” she whined. “I’m being serious….”

“I know," he sighed, a bit nervous. "Emma, I….”

His guilty pause and hindering words were too obvious to mask, prompting his insecurity to lurk under the surface of this newly found trust they’d landed on. She didn’t want that doubt to seep back in. She wanted him like this - raw and honest and casually confident. She wanted him to be _happy_ with her.

“I'm not mad,” she quickly clarified. “I just….want to know.”

He bit his lip in a worrisome fashion, his fangs concealed again as he seemed to collect the events of that night from the various recesses of his brain. His eyes were a clear blue - the hue of shallow water under the rising sun. He sighed in compliance, his thumb dragging up and down her arm as he set into explanation.

“When I found you in the alley,” he started, swallowing hard. “It wasn't the first time I saw you. I'd watched you at the hospital the few times you'd been in over the past year or so. I swindled your chart from one of the emergency room nurses a few months back and found out what you do.”

“Why so curious, doctor?”

“Something about you, lass,” he reminded her. “You were different. Most people who show up to the hospital with an injury look rather upset. They're in agony. Not you though. You looked more….inconvenienced. It was like you'd seen worse days.”

“So you were pulled in by….my tortured soul?”

“Not that, love,” he laughed. “More about why you were keeping said soul so guarded. You'd been hurt in a way that _wasn't_ your reason for visiting the emergency room. I suppose I liked the mystery. I don't know if I've mentioned it, but I _do_ love a challenge.”

“I see that,” Emma commented, her fingers tugging playfully on his waistband. “Up for one now perhaps?”

“ _Emma_ ….”

His teeth gritted softly, his voice a soft warning that did little to stop her. Emma smiled to herself, placing a kiss on his naked chest. She followed it with another and then several more as her lips traced a path down to the elastic band that kept his pants hanging low on his hips. Her teeth dragged lightly against his defined torso, her tongue following the gentle nipping. She paused just above his waist as she sunk her teeth into a tender bite and his hips jerked with a groan.

“God, you _are_ really into this, aren't you?”

Emma peered up at him, rolling her eyes as she pulled on the loose drawstring before sliding the comfortable cotton fabric down his legs. His skin was chilled and he shivered, her touch clearly unexpected but not in the way that would cause him to fight her on it. Her hands rested on his bare thighs as she shimmied down to the edge of the bed with a confident smirk. His boxer briefs were solid black and strained, doing _very_ little to hide the _very_ large problem inside. Well, perhaps not a problem _exactly_ \- but that didn’t mean Emma wasn’t willing to solve it.

“It would appear that you’re rather into it as well,” she taunted, pulling his boxer briefs off quickly and tossing them to the floor. “Perhaps _very_ into it.”

“Maybe, but-” he started, pausing with a gasp when she licked a long stripe up his hard length. “-bloody hell, _love_. That’s…. _god_ , that’s….”

His voice vanished as Emma wrapped her lips around him, humming lowly as she moved up and down. He hardened further as her teeth brushed against him and his fingers anchored on her scalp, his hand guiding her effort as she sucked lightly. His body was rigid as he fought off his desire to thrust into her mouth, but Emma’s tickling fingers on the underside of his legs told him to table his restraint. She wanted an uncontrolled Killian Jones for a moment.

“Love, you…. _have_ to….”

Her mouth moved faster, her tongue swirling around the tip of him as she took him deeper. Her throat ached as he moved in and out, but the sounds falling from his lips were desperate. A final, hard suck and his stuttering thrusts - one, two, and then a third - pushed him over that teetering edge into total bliss. Emma swallowed hard, the taste of him tantalizing her while he rode out the moment. When he stopped, she pulled back and placed a soft kiss on his inner thigh before moving back up the sheets to join him.

“Mmmm,” he said with that sweet smirk. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

The words were so cavalier - almost normal, especially considering their circumstances. Her head tumbled a bit with the definition of those circumstances. It was something they’d have to talk about eventually, but as his warm embrace wrapped her up in complete comfort, Emma decided that this night cloaked hour wasn’t meant for that.

“Tired, love?”

“A little,” she admitted, cuddling up against him. “Will you stay with me? I know you don’t sleep-”

“Wrong, love,” he corrected her. “I do not _require_ sleep. I do, however, quite like the idea of doing so with you.”

“Good,” she replied, leaning into his touch as he tickled her back. “I’d be fine with you continuing to do that if you do decide you’d like to stay awake.”

“I’ll bet you would,” he laughed. “Lucky for you, I’m happy to accommodate your preference. At least for a _little_ longer.”

Emma giggled against his flesh, listening to his steady breathing as his hand moved up and down the expanse of her back. His touch was some sort of magical - something as supernatural as he was. She wondered when she allowed herself to be so captivated by it. _Probably from the moment he carried you out of the alley,_ her subconscious mind thought. 

“Are you still case-free, love?”

“For now, yes,” she yawned, her head on his chest. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wanted to see how long I get to keep you to myself,” he grinned, kissing her gently. “I plan to make good use of my time.”

“Well, if you’ve got fantasies to indulge, Jones,” Emma teased, pinching his ribs. “I should let you know up front that I just so happened to forget my virgin blood at home.”

“I should have guessed you might,” he countered, his amusement at her continued stereotyping evident as he rolled her to her back with a swift move. “I suppose yours will do just _fine_ then.”


	5. Crave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little longer than anticipated! Here it is anyway :] I own nothing. All rights/characters belong to OUAT and the writers/creators.

It had been raining with little pause for nearly a week and the fog danced low on the residential road just a block past main street. Emma pulled alongside the curb as the tires of her car caused a small splash in a leftover puddle. The air still felt damp with evidence of a mid afternoon storm and as the ignition kicked off, she snuggled into her jacket and the thick wool scarf draped around her neck.

Yes, it was the favorite scarf she'd chosen to wear for weather related reasons and _only_ those. A blush skimmed her cheeks as she adjusted the woven article. _Damn Killian Jones and his rogue teeth_ , Emma thought with a smirk. Although, she couldn't totally blame him. He'd merely done what he always seemed to. He respected her choice. He let _her_ decide.

Now when and why her choice had become so downright devious and daring was anyone’s guess - logic be _damned_.

She pressed lightly on the skin being concealed, knowing that the puncture marks were healed and fading fast. It was a silly cliche to have worn the scarf at all - she had nothing she wanted to hide. Killian had taken the utmost care when it came to the indents he'd left on her neck during that insane moment of passion. Emma shivered slightly at the memory - the way he'd hovered above her, that drilling blue color of his eyes, the piercing feel of his fangs as he took what they'd both obviously been desiring for who knows how long. It had only happened that single time - their first time in more ways than one - but as the recollection of that rain soaked night continued to prod her, Emma found it increasingly difficult to deny how much she wanted it again.

There was just something about him holding her life in his hands while he offered her his world - his impossible, dangerous, _tempting_ world.

Emma tapped the steering wheel to the pattern of the sporadic precipitation on her windshield, trying to keep her mind focused on work. She was after some scumbag who'd skipped bail a week ago and she'd gotten a tip that he might be holed up in this part of town. She had decided a little stakeout might not hurt and a cup of coffee plus her shiny rain boots had found her doing just that. She sighed softly as she thought of the place she'd truly prefer to be in the shade of the storm.

###### 

_“Mmmm,” he sighed, opening one eye lazily. “Are you watching me sleep now, Swan?”_

_“Maybe,” she laughed, tangling her feet with his. “You've mentioned that it's a rare occurrence so I thought I should take advantage while I could.”_

_“Fair enough,” he smirked, his voice thick with some sort of exhaustion. “Though I'd hoped you'd be engaged in the same activity. Not preparing to leave, are you?”_

_“No, no - of course not,” she clarified as her thumb traced the scar on his cheek. “I guess I was just attempting to figure out why….or what it is about you that makes me want-”_

_“To stay?”_

_“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I guess that sounds pretty awful, doesn't it?”_

_“No, love,” he said after a moment, reaching for the comfort of her hand. “In fact, I find myself curious about that exact thing rather often.”_

_“Oh,” she replied softly. “Can I ask why?”_

_“Well, I guess I just….don't know what would make you want this….just being here with me,” he tried, his explanation sporadic and sad. “I have little to offer you, Emma.”_

_“But maybe little-” she decided, her eyes wide with strange certainty. “-is enough.”_

_“Is it?”_

_“I….think so. I mean, it is. I just….can't explain it honestly. It feels like more than enough, Killian.”_

_“Ah, feels like it huh,” he teased with a slight smirk. “I like the sound of that, Swan.”_

_“Me too,” she giggled, snuggling into him. “Maybe too much.”_

_“Well, I guess we’ll see about that, darling.”_

###### 

The thought of him in those cozy circumstances brought a blush to her cheeks as she rubbed her hands together to will away the cold. His skin had been pale against the color of the silky sheets and though his touch was colder than any other lover she'd had, something about the icy feel of his fingertips set her on fire. Emma blew heat onto her hands and pulled on her black, fingerless gloves in an effort to coax forward the warmth her outdated vehicle wasn't providing. God, if _he_ was there, she wouldn't be having this issue. Not one _bit_.

The clock hit nine and Emma’s mind ran through her updated schedule, subconsciously contrasting it with his. He'd been working in the emergency room the past few shifts and he was scheduled for two surgeries that night, the echo of his promise to swing by after playing in her mind. She had a while before that sweet check in though and her stomach voiced its disagreement with a low grumble. She bit her lip with a soft laugh, remembering the chat that had followed her last bout with an actual real, insistent hunger.

###### 

_“Whoa,” his heavy tone commented, his grin beaming as he held himself over her. “You okay there, Swan?”_

_“Yeah, just….hungry I guess,” Emma blushed. “Sorry-”_

_“No, no, love - don't apologize,” he said quickly, pulling her knuckles to his lips for a quick kiss. “I guess I….forget sometimes. Let’s get you something to eat.”_

_“Wait a minute….do you actually have food here?”_

_“Of course, love,” he assured her, pulling her to stand. “I must eat sometimes as well, you know.”_

_“Oh, uh, yeah-”_

_“Dammit,” he chuckled, rubbing his eyes. “That’s not what I….that came out wrong again, didn't it?_

_“No, it's okay,” she laughed in return. “Just another one of those things I'm curious about I guess.”_

_“Well, allow me-” he offered, sweeping her up in his hold and using that unmatched speed to dash them to the kitchen. “-to show you.”_

_“So,” Emma started, hopping up onto the counter as she regained composure. “You were saying something about eating….”_

_“Ah, yes - that,” he nodded, tugging open his fridge door in pursuit of something. “I suppose this is one of those times your folklore is accurate, darling.”_

_“So it's more like drinking-” she inquired, her head tilted in thought. “-than eating?”_

_“Aye, love,” he nodded as he removed a plastic container of strawberries from the shelf. “I suppose that's a better way to describe it.”_

_“So, like….what you did with me?”_

_“Oh, no - not at all love. You're not my source of food, Swan,” he clarified with a wave of his hand. “I acquire my sustenance from the hospital. I've got an arrangement with one of the lab technicians there - Victor’s his name. He provides me with a couple of bags a week. It's the minimum I require because even after several years of having to endure it, cold blood isn't exactly the highlight on my preferred menu.”_

_“But can you actually….eat as well?”_

_“Yes, love,” he laughed, plucking a berry from the case as holding it out for her. “As long as I keep a decent amount of blood in my system, my body functions quite….normally.”_

_“Mmmm,” she hummed, taking a small bite and licking her lips. “Quite, huh?”_

_“Aye, love,” he smiled as he ate what was left of the piece of fruit. “Quite.”_

_The kiss that followed as he parted her legs and drew them around his waist was anything but normal. His fingers traced the length of her skin in an intoxicating fashion, toying with the buttons of her - well, his shirt that she'd stolen. Breakfast turned into a lazy brunch by the time he finished devouring her, the syrup intended for their pancakes smeared across various parts of her skin and removed thoroughly with his warm tongue. With her appetite for food sated, he'd led her back to the cozy quarters of his four post bed - and a whole new sort of hunger took hold of them._

###### 

Emma allowed her head to fall back against her seat, impatience taking over as she watched the minutes move far too slowly on her dashboard clock. She had no clue where this perp was and the waiting was _killing_ her - especially given the way she was choosing to pass the time.

Reminiscing the past several nights was certainly not shaping up to be an appropriate distraction. If anything, it was making the minutes infinitely longer. She had no clue just how long this stakeout might stretch on and she wasn't sure that she had the willpower to keep those particular thoughts at bay. Her fingernails scratched softly at the denim of her jeans as she tried to think of _anything_ else. They'd barely had any time apart since the first night she'd lost herself in this eternal man and here she was, impatient and trying to will away the seconds until she could be back in his arms again.

Perhaps she really _did_ belong to him.

A wry smile met her lips at the outlandish thought. He definitely didn't _own_ her - and honestly, Emma had a hard time believing he'd ever actually want to. It wasn't really a secret that he liked her fiery, stubborn independence - it was written all over his face every time she shut down his insecurities or instigated an activity that didn't qualify as independent. No, Killian Jones didn't possess her as property.

Emma felt the weak pull of her curious mind as raindrops rolled down the window and her breath fogged the glass. She couldn't help but think of what it would be like if he did own her. She bit her lip at the foreign idea, her mind reeling with words he'd said before.

_I don't want to hurt you, love._

_Your thoughts and decisions are your own, lass._

_Say it again…say you want this…_

Chills followed the length of her spine as she recalled that husky timbre of his voice and the way his intent was always wrapped up in that rough accent. Emma's eyes closed as she relaxed, remembering the various circumstances she'd been in when hearing each shade of his lilting tone. Her fingers itched as she thought of the way his lips pressed together in that knowing smirk and the way he punctuated the final part of some words, the sound of the letter sounding remarkably similar to the click of his exposed fangs. Her mind reeled as she squirmed in her seat, her body escalating fast into that state of wanting and _needing_. Her fingers toyed with the seam of her jeans and she grew oblivious to the way they pulled on the zipper, loosening the denim fast - but of course, not _quite_ as fast as Killian.

No, it was only that man who could drive her crazy in _merely_ seconds.

###### 

_“Swan.”_

_“Mmmm….”_

_It was truly a wonder that Emma didn't have permanent indentations from Killian’s front door against the flesh of her back. He'd gotten awfully skilled at anchoring her against that strong surface over the past few nights, often pulling it open and yanking her inside before she even had time to knock - although he’d insisted she didn't need to do that anyway._

_“I missed you, love….”_

_He said the all too sweet words in that ragged, accented tone as he trailed kisses from the arch of her jaw down to her collarbone. Her skin was wet with the continuing nightly downpour outside and chills traced the curve of her spine as he removed several stray drops of water with his tongue. God, the things that man could do with that mouth._

_She almost never wanted it to stop raining._

_“I haven't been gone….that long,” she smiled against his mouth. “Less than twenty four hours actually-”_

_“Mmmm, I know,” he growled, hands firmly hugging her hips. “But I was hoping my recent reactions to this particular position might confirm just how much more frequently I'd prefer to lay eyes on you.”_

_“Yeah, your response might have suggested something like that,” Emma sighed, her eyes falling closed as he ran his tongue slowly along her neck. “Though I never mind hearing it….”_

_“There are several things I'd like to hear as well, love,” he said in that sultry, moan stealing tone he seemed to save for her. “The first one tends to happen when I kiss you here.”_

_His lips brushed the space just under her ear, his teeth testing it right afterward with a teasing drag. His hands worked her hips as his thumbs moved in slow sensual patterns along the protruding bones. Damn, he was good at that. The low, pleading sound she let out was soft but enough to make him grin against her neck._

_“That's the one,” he commented, his palms sliding more firmly to her waist. “Then here….”_

_His mouth slid slowly, his pace torturous as he moved to the space of skin just above her breast. The tickle of his scruff made her shiver as his tongue swirled softly at her nipple. Emma worked her fingers into his shaggy hair, tugging and twisting sporadically as he groaned lowly. He peered up at her from hooded blue eyes and it was nothing less than staring into the sun - dangerous, blinding, and white hot._

_“Killian….”_

_“Mmmm, love,” he gasped, peeling her remaining clothes from her body. “Let me have you….”_

_Emma couldn't find her voice as he moved to his knees, her mind hazy as she gave a weak moan and an even weaker nod. His hands were firm on her thighs and he pressed her tighter against the door, his heavy breath hot against her aching core._

_“That's what I like to hear, darling,” he said, his thickly uttered words mumbled as his tongue grazed the spot that had been craving his touch. “But perhaps a little louder now.”_

###### 

His direct, coaxing request from that recent instance encircled her mind with temptation as Emma fingers ran teasingly along the dark lace just under her jeans. The woven thread of her gloves brushed her exposed torso and she was grateful that they didn't cover her fingers - especially because she needed desperately to use them. She tried to recall the feel of his hands as she pulled back the material and moved her own anxious touch lower. The sharp gasp that left her mouth was unexpected, but it prompted her pace and she rubbed a little harder. Her head knew that this was not the time or place - even if it was secluded enough. She was _working_. She had a job to do.

But as the image of his icy, fiery, bold blue eyes burned in her memory, Emma knew there was no way in _hell_ she could stop.

“Killian.....”

Her jagged intake of breath wrapped around his name like a prayer, the letters leaving her mouth as her fingers slid back and forth. She thought back to him doing this - the anxious, groaning action of his tongue paired with a very skilled hand had sent her over the edge faster than she'd imagined possible. Now that she'd seen him like _that_ , there was no way she would be able to go without it. Her body wanted - no, _needed_ him. She writhed against her palm and her hips moved with a slight jerk, her pleasure soaring and causing her eyes to open instantly.

 _Killian_.

The name wasn’t said aloud this time, but it lit up Emma’s mind in a flash as she attempted to freeze. There weren't many things that could have ripped her from the heightened circumstances she'd worked herself into. Well, there was actually only one thing - and _he_ was currently staring a hole through her head with his palms flat on the hood of her car.

Son of a bitch - she'd been _caught_.

She’d never seen him look quite so predatory while looking so beyond frazzled. His hair was a mess, dark and damp with the lingering rain. His shoulders were clad in long, blowing black peacoat she hadn’t seen before and a gray cotton tee he’d probably been wearing under his scrubs earlier. All Emma knew for sure was that it was one that shouldn’t appear quite as sexy as the storm was making it look. He was biting his lip with fervor as he glared through the glass, his eyes a fierce blue that threatened to destroy her. Emma felt her breath hitch in her throat as he sped to the driver’s side door, yanking it open hard enough to shake the car.

“ _Swan_ ,” he growled, his pupils blown wide as he braced himself on the open door.

She’s never heard his accent sound so feral before and the roll of thunder behind him was almost menacing. Emma’s fingers flinched as she noticed his wide stance and the way his jeans had grown tighter. She barely had time to notice the outline of his hard length when he grabbed her legs and turned her toward him, tugging her jeans off and throwing them up onto the dashboard.

“What in the bloody _hell_ -” he rasped, kneeling on the wet ground and kissing a trail up the inside of her thigh “-do you think you're doing, love?”

“I…. _oh_ , god….I just…. _missed_ you.”

“I can see that,” he hummed, pulling her to the edge of the seat as her back hit the middle console. “But I'm here _now_ , darling.”

Emma watched him intently, hanging on his sultry words and his wandering hands. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip as she bit back a moan when his tongue ran slowly along the growing wetness between her legs. He growled low and his fingers pressed hard into her legs as he teased her, his mouth moving skillfully as her hips rutted against his face.

“Killian….oh,  _yes_ -”

“Emma….you are so _wet_ ,” he said as his thumb rubbed against her. “So beautiful, love. _Come_. I want you to _come_.”

“Killian, _please_ ….I want you to….”

She didn't finish the words that made up her begging, moaning, _pleading_ request. He knew what she wanted - and this time, he gave only the briefest moment of pause before he caved. His fingers pushed up abruptly, thrusting in and out at a sudden but steady speed. Her mind was heavy with a fog that mimicked the one dancing along the pavement and he worked her carefully and calculatedly toward oblivion. Emma’s gasping breath quickly became a rhythm of desperate panting and her eyes fused with his as she came undone, a series of sounds only he could pull from her trembling mouth. She was so busy spinning and sinking into her own pleasure that she barely caught the flash of fangs piercing her inner thigh.

“ _Oh_ …K-Killian….”

He groaned in response, his fingers brushing the underside of the leg he was marking. Emma felt her head lighten as he drank, swallowing heavily as he held her steady. She peered down at him, taking in the picture of this voracious man mid-feed. His lashes were long and shielding the veins darkening around his eyes as he took a final taste. When he pulled back, he quickly used a fang to cut his thumb. He pressed his trickle of blood onto the punctures he had left on her leg, that dazed smirk finding him as his bloodstained lips placed a soft kiss over the healing bite. Emma let her fingers trail through his wet hair as the water from the growing storm slid down the contours of his face.

If this man and his impossible state of being didn't end her, that look of pure desire certainly would.

“Sorry, love,” he breathed, dragging his wrist over his mouth to hide the evidence. “I didn't mean to get so carried away.”

“It’s okay,” she nodded as her eyes fought to stay focused. “I’m okay.”

“You’re _beautiful_ ,” he said sweetly, pulling her to her feet and placing soft kisses on her jaw. “I want to show you.”

His hands slid down her back with a heated pressure, his grip landing firmly on the underside of her thighs as he lifted her. His lips found hers as their tongues tangled quickly, the rain clinging to their soaked clothes as he held her tight. A shiver traced her skin from her toes to her scalp and she gasped against his mouth. The door was frigid against her flushed skin and Emma’s gloves pressed hard on the metal surface.

“God, Killian….that’s _cold_ ….”

“Aye, rather _wet_ too,” he replied, his voice breathy as it captured the innuendo. “Let’s fix that.”

The world was a blur around her as she heard the car door slam and the soft whoosh that followed the vampire speed made her skin tingle. The rush slowed and Emma landed flat against the bricks of a hidden wall. She wasn’t sure where she was for a moment - the way Killian’s lips were ravishing her neck was making her completely incoherent. She peered from side to side as he kiss trailed down her chest and finally somehow realized that they were in a nearby alley. The space was covered and quite out of the way, but something about it was dangerous.

This felt all too _familiar_.

“Killian, are we-”

“Yes,” he confirmed, kissing her hard and nipping at her bottom lip. “I wanted to make amends for how things should have gone last time we were here.”

Emma smirked at his oddly sexy and thoughtful gesture as she reached for the collar of his coat, yanking him closer as she threw them back into the heated kiss he’d started. Her fingers twisted the material of the coat and he groaned, allowing his tongue to tease hers. Pushing her body tight against his, Emma felt that habitual magnetism take hold of her senses.

“I think-” Emma started, shoving him backward until he hit the opposite wall. “-I _might_ be able to allow it.”

Killian grinned at that, grunting softly when she tugged on his belt. He reached for her, hitching her leg up on his hip and Emma pulled helplessly on his jeans. He smirked against her neck as he forced the fabric to the ground with his long coat landing on top of it, the rain now pounding the pavement only a short distance from where she had him pinned to the bricks. His hands moved fast, ripping her sweater from her body before he gripped her elevated leg more firmly. Emma’s fingers wove themselves into his dark, thick hair as his tongue followed the lacy edge of her bra - the black, somewhat sheer one she’d _definitely_ chosen with him in mind.

“Bloody _hell_ , lass,” he gasped, sucking gently on the swell of her breast before he spun them. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Not at all,” she smiled, pulling his hair carefully. “If I was, I would have brought a wooden stake with me.”

“Fair enough,” he decided, raising an eyebrow as his solid length brushed her bare skin. “Not into the impaling thing then?”

“Well, I didn’t-” Emma replied as he crushed her against the cold bricks, pushing inside with a deep thrust. “-say _that_.”

His mouth fell back to her shoulder as Emma’s back arched into him. His hand knotted loosely in her hair as her head grew weak, exposing more of her bare neckline to him. His kiss was heated and his hips followed the fervent motion as he his free hand held her lower back. The pattern of moans leaving Emma’s throat were rivaled only by the raindrops splashing in the street and Killian’s ragged breath as he slammed into her. Emma held his head and gaze steady, wrapping her arms around his neck as lighting flashed distantly. The brief, bright strike lit up the sky and the darkness in his eyes to replace it with an honest, brilliant blue.

“Emma, _love_ ….”

She heard it in the words - the desperation, the need, the…. _love_. He wasn’t supposed to be real, but _this_ was. _They_ were.

“Killian, _please_ ,” Emma pleaded. “I need you….”

His fangs grazed her collarbone, leaving a dull bite mark behind as he pulsed into her with a groan. Her forehead landed on his shoulder and thunder clapped loudly in the alley’s echo as she rode out her own release, his hands coaxing her through it as his grip kept her in place until her body gave up. He gathered her tight in his arms and took the several steps backward until he found the adjacent bricks. With his back flush against the wall, he slid down the surface to the cold ground with Emma carefully balanced in his lap. They caught their breath simultaneously for a moment, her fingers absently running through his grown out hair.

“Freezing, love?”

Emma shivered slightly as he retrieved the coat from its landing place with a quick stretch, pulling it around her bare shoulders and running his hand down the fabric as it covered her back. He was so careful with her typically and she hoped silently that he wasn’t berating himself for being a little less than careful this time.

“Well I didn’t exactly plan on being naked in the middle of a torrential downpour,” she taunted, kissing him once more. “So I guess I’m a _bit_ colder than I expected I’d be tonight.”

“I suppose I should apologize for that.”

He kissed her tenderly, his hand on her cheek as he breathed her in like she was his true lifeblood. She melted into the idea without another thought. There was something about it that felt safe - even if he was _supposed_ to be some sort of monster.

“I’m listening,” she sighed, leaning her forehead against his. “Whenever you’re ready, Jones.”

“I said I _should_ apologize,” he answered, kissing the end of her nose. “Not that I was going to.”

“Well, in that case, we should go before _I_ catch _my_ death out here,” she teased. “Then you can take me home to apologize.”

“I’d be happy to,” he grinned, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Maybe a fire to warm you up as well, love - _if_ you’re lucky.”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out if I am,” she retorted, her hands popping his commandeered coat’s collar up around her ears. “We should get going, _Vlad_.”

“Vlad, as in-” he smiled, arching an eyebrow. “-The _Impaler?”_

“Hey, they were _your_ words,” she reminded him. “Not mine.”

“Fair point, love - and once again, I’m _marveled_ by your historical sense of humor,” he replied, a trail of fingertips tickling their way up her spine. “But I’ve got to say that I _prefer_ Dracula.”

“Yeah,” she laughed, tilting her head. “Of _course_ you do.”


	6. Consume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heat is rising, folks. Beware the rating :] also, I apologize in advance for any incorrect translations - Google and I don't always see eye to eye! All right/character/my soul belong to the writers and creators of OUAT. I own nothing.

It hadn't taken long for Emma to get used to him and to…. _well_ , whatever this was that they were doing. She didn't dare label it. She found she almost didn't _need_ to. Waking up wrapped in his dark silk sheets and often also in his mysterious blue stare was strangely satisfying. It wasn't at all what she expected when she opened her eyes to him in the hospital doorway that morning, but then again, there was absolutely no way she could have planned for such a thing.

Falling for the undead doctor who was cloaked in danger and that sultry sex appeal wasn't something one could anticipate.

The room was still dark when her gaze fluttered open the morning after her interrupted stakeout, the curtains pulled loosely over the windows in his grandiose bedroom. The glowing embers of the fire he'd lit the night before were simmering within the ashes under the mantle and Emma couldn't help but reminisce the way he looked in the firelight. Her memory hung on the shadows the dull glow cast on his face and the way the flickering flame seemed to define every little curve of his muscles. Somehow, it even emphasized that quickly darkening navy blue of his eyes.

Though he wasn't a slave to it like many books or legends would say, the night had certainly taken to Killian Jones over the decades. It was his element and he looked _damn_ good in the mysterious shroud of blackness it often provided.

"You're awake."

His voice was lazy and sweet, tied up with that accent Emma was quite accustomed to now. He leaned against the door frame in a way that certainly shouldn't be as seductive as she was finding it, but it seemed her life had recently become an endless task of how to go about resisting this man. His chest was bare and the pattern of dark hair that covered his skin seemed to tease her from a distant. He wore a pair of black sweatpants and they clung weakly to his hips as he toyed with the red stone ring on his finger. Emma wasn't sure how he could look so endearing and so drop _dead_ sexy all at once, but he definitely did - ignoring the _obvious_ pun of course.

"Mmmm," she acknowledged, offering him a soft smile. "So are you. The dawn of the dead or something like that it would appear."

"Clever as always, Swan," he grinned as he slid back into bed with her. "Sorry I wasn't here. I ran out to grab some more firewood and you looked too peaceful to wake."

"But coincidentally, you made it back just in time to see me do just that," she commented, analyzing his features. "Or was that _not_ just a coincidence?"

He pursed his lips as he furrowed those over expressive eyebrows, staring up at the wood beams that criss crossed overhead. The inquiry was obviously a bit off putting, even though Emma was fairly certain he'd known this conversation would evolve eventually. She'd never been coy when it came to questioning his supernatural side and this was no different. He'd bitten her - _more_ than once now actually. She had trusted him enough in those moments to know that he would keep her free of the hazardous consequences - well, as much as he could at least.

But what about the ones he _couldn't_ control?

"Ah - _that_ ," he said finally, tearing his eyes from the ceiling to meet hers. "You want to know if we're bound."

He said it as near fact and as if he'd been teetering on just how to answer her for a while now. Emma felt her eyes widen at his straightforward reply. He'd obviously been thinking about it too.

"I know that little bit of legend has been rumored for a long time, lass," he started, intertwining their fingers. "But I'd venture to say that it probably doesn't work the way you think it does."

"Hmmm….okay," she pondered, squeezing his hand. "I'm listening then."

"It's not about control - I mean, it _can_ be, but it's not like that with us," he explained. "I don't want to hold sway over you, Emma."

"I know that," she nodded. "But if it's not about control, then what-"

"It's about safety," he continued, sighing around his words. "It's about my ability to….to protect you. It's more like a connection. It will ward off anything that could bring you harm, love. I've told you that I won't hurt you, Emma. The blood bond merely ensures that no one else will have the opportunity to do so either."

The way he looked at her so nervously was almost cute, but the blue sadness there made her curious about why he needed such security. Vague thoughts turned over in her mind as she considered the history lingering in his stare. The man had been through more than a century of life - of _course_ he'd have his share of tragedy. She couldn't help but wonder just what or _who_ that loss entailed - and just how much he blamed himself for it.

Oh, Killian Jones and his _endless_ guilt streak. She constantly wished _that_ was the unreal part of him.

"Ever since you - well, since I….drank from you," he attempted, stumbling over the appropriate phrasing. "I can sense you. I can….feel what you're feeling."

"Ah, I see," she replied, trying to hide her blushing realization. "So….is _that_ …."

His lips curved up in a knowing smirk, his eyes dancing with sudden mischief. She'd wondered how he'd known when he showed up with that heated stare and his fingers flexed firmly against the hood of her car. The mood lightened just slightly before it became another sort of tense - the kind that made Emma think about the control they'd both lacked the night before.

"Aye, love, it is," he breathed, pulling her a little closer as he answered her abandoned question. "Though I don't think I could have _ever_ imagined the circumstances I found you in."

"Hmmm, is that disappointment I hear? I could have just-"

"Not one bit, darling," he grinned as he kissed her softly. "Merely made me wish I'd shown up sooner. Starting without me could _almost_ be considered bad form."

"My apologies then, Dr. Jones," she mumbled, tilting her head so he could continue the trail his mouth was wandering. "I just….I needed a distraction."

"For which I was your first thought," he noted. "But I would have made sure I was there had I known you were desiring my presence so…. _vividly_."

"Oh, please," she teased in return. "You were _working_ , Killian. I mean, reliability with saving lives seems necessary if you're going to keep your job."

"True, but I'm here now," he retorted, rising and dropping his hands to the mattress as he anchored himself over her. "So I must say the only life I'm concerned about right now is _yours_."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Because I'm rather captivated by it, love," he breathed. "By you and by the things you seem to do so….easily."

His body was heavy as he hovered over her, the strong press of his naked weight making her quite anxious to explore his remark. He'd stated time and time again that self control was something he'd never take from her, but she couldn't fight the urge to see what it might be like to take away a little of _his_.

"What things-" she flirted, rutting her bare hips up against his. "-are you referring to?"

"Well, _that_ is definitely one of them," he answered as he bit his lower lip. "But I think it's pretty obvious how easily you affect me, love. You are quite pertinacious."

"And _you_ have quite the advanced vocabulary," Emma commented, dragging her fingernails gently up and down his back. "I probably shouldn't find that as enthralling as I do."

"Well, Swan, there's nothing wrong with finding intrigue in an educated mouth," he smirked, his legs tangling with hers. "Though you know what they say, love - _il vaut mieux faire que dire_."

"Hmmm, where exactly do they say that?"

"France, darling," he replied, his fingertips tracing the length of her torso. "Though I hope I did that pronunciation justice - it's been a long time."

"After the war?"

"Aye," he said, distant for a moment before setting his gaze back on her. "Beautiful country and even more beautiful language."

"I can tell," she agreed, snuggling back into the pillows as his hips pinned her down. "What does it mean?"

"Something along the lines of 'it's better doing than saying'," he explained in that roughly accented tone. "A statement I must say I _wholeheartedly_ agree with."

"I must say that I think-" she responded, her words interrupted by a slight moan when his stiff length pressed against her through the satin fabric. "-I do too."

"I'm glad we agree," he breathed as his lips brushed hers. "So we should 'do' and save the 'saying' for a different time."

"Do you always find a way with words like that?"

" _Solo con usted, amor_ ," he grinned, his breath warm and ranting as he translated himself. "Only with you, love."

His reply was followed by the drag of his hard length against her thigh. It made Emma tremble slightly and she felt his sly smirk against her neck. God, the subtle curve of his lips as they met her collarbone shouldn't be so _damn_ erotic - but it was.

"Mmm…. _sempre cosi bello, l'amore_ …."

 _God_ , now what was he saying? Emma's mind barely registered the shifting accent on his seductive voice as she realized he wasn't speaking French anymore. Her brain struggled to grasp the words, but the final one - the one that she was fairly sure meant ' _love_ ' - somehow suggested his sentiments were in Italian.

It honestly didn't matter - if he sounded like _that_ , he could say whatever he wanted in any _damn_ language he pleased.

His teeth nipped softly across her skin, the ghostlike press of them driving her mad with need. The weak sound that came from her lips seemed to encourage him instantly and his hands tore mindlessly at the sheet that had woven itself loosely around her waist.

"I want to see you, love," he pleaded, his palms firm on her thighs as he shoved the dark satin they'd spent a lot of time tangled in off to the side. "Let me-"

"I think _you_ ….should let me this time…."

He paused for a moment, stilling the flexing of his hips as his length teased her in that slow sliding sensation that still made her shiver. She wasn't sure where this brief flash of boldness was coming from, but the instant she caught sight of the blue temptation in his gaze, she was determined to take advantage of it. Her hand slid down his torso and she took him in her careful grip, stroking firmly several times as his arms kept him anchored above her. God, he looked good like this - naked and wavering on the edge of what they both truly wanted. Driving him to this inevitable point of no return was almost as intense as the pleasure they were quickly approaching. Well, _almost_.

"Swan, bloody _hell_ ….what are you-"

His words halted with a slight _oomph_ as she shoved him by his shoulders, the hard push causing his back to meet the mattress. He watched her intently, his stare riddled with desire and something deviously dark. She straddled him quickly, kissing a long trail down his torso and pressing her thumbs into his hip bones to keep him still. He let out a weak grunt when her hands pushed a little more firmly, her touch warning his anxious hips as he tried for friction.

"Emma…. _love_ …."

"Tell me more."

His eyes widened and he propped himself up to observe her. He allowed her demand to sink in, the idea that she seemed to want to hear more of his knowledge in other dialects making him look curious and clever. Truthfully, he was completely wrecked - his dark hair shaggy and aching to be pulled while his focused stare blazed dark blue like the start of an unforgiving storm at sea. The shadows of the room gripped and highlighted the intricate sculpting of his fit body while each little movement she made seemed to make him tense all over.

He needed to unravel - and _god_ , she wanted to watch him.

"Emma, _oh_ …."

"Talk to me, Killian," she pleaded. " _Tell_ me."

Her hands moved deftly, grasping his thighs and adjusting their position just slightly. His length was hard and throbbing attentively as pushed it against his firm abdomen. Emma worked slowly, teasing him at a deliberately casual pace. She absorbed the sight of him watching her, his eyes dancing with that blue temptation as her hand slid up and down rhythmically. It never ceased to amaze her that he was still so very much alive.

"Emma…. _von have ut….subsisto_ ," he mumbled as he tried to remain still. "You have….to _stop_."

"Is that what you said?"

" _Yes_ , love," he answered. "Latin…."

"That's pretty impressive," she commented, her hand firmly around him. "And before that?"

"That was-" he groaned, his tongue running across his bottom lip. "-Italian."

"I liked that one," she told him as her fingers slid along his shaft. "It sounds very smooth….and poetic…."

" _Please_ , love," he gasped, his accent ragged and wanting. "I want….you…."

"Like-" she said softly, lowering her head to drag her tongue along the solid length of him. "-this?"

His groan was slightly feral, catching in his throat as his body went rigid. His hands gripped the sheets and he twisted the fabric when her mouth slid over him entirely, her hand still stroking him at the base while his hips rutted lightly. His breathing escalated in that labored manner, the air filled with his gasps and pleas.

God, _why_ hadn't she done this before now? Lord knows she'd spent plenty of time thinking about it.

"Tell me, Killian," she requested softly. "Tell me what you want."

Her mouth had barely left him when Emma found herself sprawled once again on her back. His weight pushed her into the sheets and his hips moved of their own volition, their bare skin equally on fire and simmering as his lips found hers. He settled between her legs and her knees parted to accommodate him, her feet drawn up around his back and locking at his waist. Her hand lifted, reaching up to grip his hair in a familiar act of passion, but he took her wrist firmly in his hold and pressed it back against the pillow by her cheek. He gave her that same predatory, impatiently blue stare he often did in circumstances like this and Emma's intent eyes hinged on the movement of his anxious tongue.

"I want to _ravish_ you, Emma - and I don't care what bloody language I do it in."

His lips slammed into hers, her fingers pulling hard on his hair as he thrust into her. Emma gasped into his mouth and he moaned a needy sound in return. His body aligned with hers perfectly as his speed increased, each jolt forward a little harder than the last. Emma's hands stretched across his back and her fingers climbed toward his shoulder blades. She was gentle at first, allowing her nails to grip him gently as he grunted against her neck.

"Emma…."

"Killian…. _god_ , don't stop. That's so…. _good_ …."

"Bloody _hell_ , Emma," he breathed, his voice just above a whisper as he bit her ear teasingly. "You are _bewitching,_ love…."

"Oh, _Killian_ ….do you….do you need-"

"Not….this time, love," he said, cutting her off with the shake of his head. "Just you, Emma…..oh, I just need _you_."

His biceps throbbed as he held himself up, pounding into her with strength that wasn't completely human. Her moans were automatic, falling from her lips without control as she held tight to his back. He groaned when her nails pressed harder as she pulled them down his back in a way that probably broke skin. She shoved her hips hard into his, once and then twice before she cried out his name in nothing short of total ecstasy. He followed her, his breath labored and short as he pulsed within her and his forehead dropped to meet hers.

They froze there for an unaccounted amount of time, trying to find stability in the sound of each other's breathing. Eventually, her hands moved back carefully to the scratches she knew she'd left on his back.

"Mmmm - _careful_ , love," he smiled with a slight wince. "I heal quickly but not _that_ quickly."

"I'm sorry," she replied softly, her tone a bit embarrassed. "I didn't mean to make you bleed."

"I'd dare say turnabout is fair play," he offered, a nervous expression on his face. "Since I've….well, you know-"

"Yes, I _do_ know - and stop being so worried about it," she replied in a deliberate tone. "You know I'd stop you if I didn't want you to.

"I know, love," he sighed as his head shifted to the pillow. "I just have….a hard time believing you're real sometimes."

"I am," she reassured him, a soft smile on her lips. "So is this, Killian."

He grinned in return, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as he kissed her gently. Emma dissolved into the moment as his lips caressed hers. She continued to find that she wasn't sure how _he_ was real - especially when he kissed her like _that_.

"So that last part sounded like….Spanish I think," she smiled, tilting her head in a hopeful manner. "Was it?"

"Aye, it was," he confirmed. "Quite the sharp ear there, Swan."

"Well, you have quite the silver tongue, _Dracula_ ," she taunted in return. "Though 'silver' might not be the _best_ adjective….I mean, I know how you feel about it-"

"Ah, _there_ she is," he laughed, kissing her shoulder. "Interrogating me one moment and mocking me the next. I'll never win the battle of wits with you, will I?"

"Likely not," she shrugged with that same smirk. "What others do you speak?"

"Mmmm, a little German and some Russian," he told her. "A little Gaelic, but that comes from my mother's heritage. She taught my brother and he taught me. Why so curious?"

"I don't know," she sighed, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "I just….like to hear you talk I guess. But I suppose when you've been around a million years, you've learned plenty of ways to do that. Well, among _other_ things of course."

"Mmmm, good to know you appreciate my wide array of knowledge," he replied, his eyes swirled with mischief. "I would be happy to explore this 'other things' category with you anytime as well, love. _Always_ willing to share what I know."

"Yeah I bet," she laughed as she cuddled against him. "Maybe after you stock the fireplace, I'll let you."

"As you wish, m'lady," he grinned, peeling himself from her side as she watched him rise from the bed stark naked. "Be right back."

Emma pulled the blankets tight around herself as her eyes lusted after the fit, unreal man wandering to the doorway. It would be a day full of learning for sure - and her head spun as she thought of the _many_ methods they could use to do that.

###### 

"Do you remember it?"

The words spilled from her mouth without thought, something she seemed to do a lot of lately. He'd barely joined her again on the patio at the back of the house post breakfast - a meal he seemed to truly enjoy making for her. He'd said as much while flipping several pieces of french toast and giving her a few _less_ than appropriate glances over the kitchen island. Their little brunch session had ended in a rather familiar fashion of playing clean up - and _not_ just from the mess he'd made cooking.

"That's a broad question, love," Killian quipped, handing her a hot coffee mug. "Do I remember what?"

They'd been sitting on the back porch for much of the late morning, watching the clouds dance across the sky as part of the storm promised to move on. Emma found herself quite comfortable in one of his borrowed hooded sweaters as he appeared back at the wicker chair next to hers. He looked so casually handsome in the gray daylight, his hair dark and wildly messy. It was an oddly domestic scene - especially considering the fact that his kind didn't usually tolerate sunshine.

But Killian Jones _wasn't_ a typical man - so of course, he wouldn't be the average vampire.

"Your life during the war-" Emma added, tapping the sides of her cup. "-and when you became….like this."

"You mean when I turned?"

"Yeah," she nodded, blushing at her inarticulate phrasing. "I wasn't sure how….or what…."

"It's okay, Swan," he assured her as he set his coffee down. "I know the whole thing isn't exactly straightforward. I must say that my beginnings stretch way back though, love - you're sure you'd like to hear about them?"

"If you don't mind talking about it."

"With you….no - I suppose I don't," he said, tilting his head from side to side. "But if we're going to do this, I guess there's some things I should show you."

His thumb brushed the metal part of the ring on his hand and he looked at it with some emotion Emma couldn't quite pinpoint. They'd never talked much about it - she knew only that it kept him safe from the daylight that would destroy him otherwise. She had to wonder just how big of a role the piece of jewelry had played in his life. As she watched his expression shift to serious, it was all but certain that it meant more to him than a basic necessity should.

"That sounds-" Emma commented, squinting her eyes and leaning back in the chair. "-ominous?"

"I guess we'll see about that," he sighed with a nervous smirk as thunder rolled distantly. "I'll get an umbrella - and you'll want your boots."

"Going for a walk in the rain?"

"Of sorts," he nodded, smiling briefly. "But let's see if we can beat the rain."

###### 

"I don't recall all of it - bits and pieces I guess," he finally told her, their arms looped together as he led her down a cobblestone path in the direction of the surrounding woods. "I remember the sounds of the war from miles away and the impact of being shot - it was just outside of the infirmary as I was assisting a wounded soldier. I remember the pain and the white walls of the hospital, although I know I was in and out of my wits."

"Did you ever find out who saved you?"

"Not at the time," he sighed, navigating their footsteps to avoid puddles. "I can still hear the voice though. She kept telling me I'd be okay - to have hope."

Emma felt her heart quicken a bit, recalling words that her mother had always said. _You have to have hope_. He noticed the way she tensed and threaded his fingers through hers, squeezing them gently as they continued on.

"When I woke up, I was alone," he told her. "More interesting was the fact that I was _healed_ \- not even a scar where I _knew_ I'd taken the bullet. I didn't know what to do, but I knew something was wrong - so I ran."

Emma swallowed hard, quickly connecting the fact that their solutions to uncertainty were all too similar. She knew all about the will to run in order to survive and wise or not, it was her go-to strategy as well. It was a strange walk they were on, but one that Emma couldn't help but absorb. She'd asked for this - she _wanted_ to know more about him. She wanted to soak in the details of his life and who he'd become over his decades of existence.

Truthfully, she wanted him - every last _thing_ about him.

"I traveled the continent while I tried to figure out what had happened and….exactly who or _what_ I was now," he explained. "I battled the sun for years, only coming out at dark and barricading myself inside during the day."

"How did you know about the blood?"

"I learned in Italy - one of the first places I hid away. I was out at a pub one night, not long after I turned when I was approached by a pair of brothers," he narrated, scratching at his jaw with his free hand. "I was pretty out of it by then what with not feeding or even knowing that I needed to do such a thing, but they helped me. They taught me to survive and how to keep control. They were good men - bantered endlessly but never stopped looking out for one another. Reminded me a lot of my own brother."

Emma's heart throbbed at the admission. She didn't know much about Killian's family, but she'd always sensed he had a strong connection with his singular sibling. It was difficult to see that even over his endless years, Killian still held a painful spot for the man who'd all but raised him.

"How did they know where to find you?"

"The woman who turned me knew them," he answered as they walked down a small slope into the trees. "She wrote a letter for me - sent it with them as well as instructions on where I could be located. She made sure they stayed with me for quite some time and I have to say I felt rather fortunate to have a couple of saviors take me in."

The picture came together in her mind of the broken war survivor who just wanted answers and she chanced a sideways glance at him. He caught her, returning her sympathetic stare as he tugged on her hand to draw them to a pause. His touch turned them to face one another as one hand landed on her waist and the other rested on her cheek.

"Emma, I don't know why this woman did what she did - or why she chose to condemn me to this life," he said softly, his thumb stroking her jaw. "But she did provide the path to show me that I could have a future, despite all of this….and I decided long ago that I damn well intend to have one. You make that choice an even better one, love."

Emma's smile was brief and unable to widen as his lips fused to hers, his protective hold pulling her close as her mouth parted. He kissed her hard and in a way she'd never tired of while her hands pressed firmly on his chest. He growled softly, a noise that made her grin as she tilted her head against his cupped hand. The silver ring he'd been toying with was cold against her skin and when he pulled back slightly, she lifted her touch to it.

"Are you going to tell me about this-" she asked, spinning the metal on his finger. "-or where it came from?"

" _Ah_ , the witch," he smiled, pulling his hand into view. "She lived in Storybrooke for a number of years actually. One of the only magical beings with the capability of creating these - it's part of what brought me home….though it did take me a while to talk her into making it."

"Wait, she's _from_ here? Who was it?"

"There are….parts of this town you don't know about, Emma," he replied cautiously, his eyes still playful as he took on a tone of warning. "Perhaps it's better to keep it that way. Besides, she was quite a _fickle_ creature and probably nobody you would have heard of anyway."

"Hmmm," Emma responded, rolling her eyes. "Tease much?"

"Would you expect any less?"

"Fair point," she grinned. "So where are we going?"

"Well, you said you wanted to know about my early years as a vampire," he said, nodding toward a space just beyond the trees where a small stone building stood. "That structure is a good place to begin."

Emma cocked her head sideways, raising an eyebrow at this sudden very enigmatic man. What the _hell_ was he up to?

###### 

"A crypt? _Really?"_

"With all your joking, you didn't believe I _actually_ had one?"

"Well, I-" Emma paused, turning back to look at him. "-guess not."

Standing in shock on the dirt floor of a place she'd once teased him about was not at all what she'd expected when they'd set out on their afternoon jaunt through his past. The room itself wasn't overly large and was partially concealed by heavy wooden doors that had required his utmost strength to slide open. The space was lit only by lantern and several half melted candles, the darkness slightly looming as she tried not to act uneasy. She'd felt that way outside as well when they'd arrived at the iron gated entrance only to see the letters of his last name etched in granite above the doorway. In true Killian fashion, he'd taken her hand tightly in his and pleaded with those two words - the ones that possessed the power to make her do almost anything.

_Trust me._

Now, however, it wasn't trust that Emma needed. As she explored the area - the cold dark walls, the barred off and caged corner space, the blue stained glass window, the closed door at the back that probably led to more mystery - all she found herself really desiring was an explanation.

"Before I had the ring," he said softly, moving to her side just in front of the thick metal bars. "I kept myself in here most of the time."

"You mean you-" Emma asked, her plea for clarification evident. "-locked yourself up? But why?"

"Back in Italy, while I was getting used to all of this, I….I hurt someone," he admitted, his expression instantly full of shame. "It was only once, but….she….she _died_ \- and it was my fault. I _killed_ her."

His eyes were crystal blue as emotion filled them, his glassy stare lingering on the makeshift prison he'd crafted in the walled off building. Emma had never seen him so overtaken with pain and remorse - not even the night his fangs barely punctured her neck and he vanished into the frigid air. He looked lost in the past and she quickly moved to separate the space between him and the dungeon with her own body.

" _Hey_ ," she coaxed gently, reaching to rest her hand on his arm. "It's okay. Tell me."

"I just….well, when I came back here, I knew I had to do something to make sure I never lost control again," he continued. "When I couldn't get the witch to spell the ring, I asked her to imprison me here."

"So she did," Emma resolved, glancing back at the wall behind the bars. "To keep you safe?"

"To keep _others_ safe," he corrected. "My lust for blood was too strong, Emma. It was the only way."

"So you stayed here…."

Her voice trailed off weakly as she rounded the corner into the small cell. Narrowing her eyes at the scuffed wall, she moved closer only to find out that the marks were scratches. Her hand pressed against them as she took in the intricate pattern, one that seem fraught with intense agony. Her fingers traced the flat abrasions with concern as she finally realized what they were.

" _You_ did this," she almost whispered. "Were you truly in _that_ much pain, Killian?"

She tore her eyes from the marred wall, turning back to where he stood with slumped shoulders. He pressed his lips together as he seemed to wage a mental war with his memory. He didn't have to answer her - she could see it in his haunted stare as he looked back at her through the metal barrier.

He hadn't _been_ in pain the last time he'd willingly stood in this crypt - he _still_ was.

Emma examined him as she walked slowly back to the place she'd interfered before, the stretch of floor between the bars and his defeated frame. He didn't move - he didn't seem to possess a will to. She noticed then just how difficult it was for him to be standing in the place he'd once allowed to be his prison.

"So you stayed here-" she started, reaching for his hands. "-and you starved because you were afraid?"

"I was _terrified_ , Emma," he replied quietly. "I knew I'd rather be deprived and suffering here than out in the world on a murderous rampage."

"Killian, you aren't like that-"

"I _could_ have been," he interrupted, his hands weak in hers. "There are plenty of my kind who take that route - some of them unwillingly."

"You didn't," she reminded him. "You chose differently - you chose _control_. You _always_ do."

"That's an awful lot of faith you seem to put in me, Swan."

"I know," she smiled, squeezing his hand. "There's a reason for it though."

"Oh?"

Emma hesitated a moment, biting her lip as she pondered the truth. She'd never seen that dangerous, bloodthirsty, completely off the rails side of him. Did it _truly_ exist? Did she dare try to find out?

"Come here," she almost demanded, pulling him toward her. "I want you to do something."

"Anything, love," he agreed as her back hit the bars. "What do you need?"

"Bite me."

His eyes filled with confusion, quickly toppled by disbelief in that dark sapphire hue she'd seen once or twice before. He tried to back up, but she gripped his arms and zeroed her glare on him.

"Killian," she repeated. "I want you to bite me."

" _Emma_ -"

"No, don't 'Emma' me," she said firmly. "The last time you were here, you were punishing yourself for what you thought you were capable of - and for a mistake you didn't consciously make. You aren't _that_ man."

"You don't know that," he replied, an edge of defiance in his words. "I might be. I _could_ be."

"You aren't-" she responded, her hands sliding down his arms. "-and you _won't_ be."

He took a steadying breath as her fingers fell to his waist and she tugged him closer by the hem of his jeans. His lips were drawn to hers when she yanked on his belt, unclasping the buckle and tossing it to the ground with a thud before she gripped the belt loops to coax him closer. Her touch remained there, tracing the edge of the denim until she reached the button. Working quickly, she flipped it open and his kiss grew hurried. Their tongues tangled helplessly as he unzipped her sweater to expose her pale neckline. His breath was hot and uneven as he pulled back, sliding the fabric from her shoulders and gasping softly at the sight of a lacy red strap. His thumb swiped it out of the way and he caught her stare, his intent focused and wavering all at once.

"Emma," he said, his tone unstable and thick. "You're sure that's what you want?"

" _Yes_ , Killian," she exhaled as her fingers twisted in his dark hair. "Do it."

His fangs formed quickly, that tell-tale click giving her chills as she pushed his jeans to the dirt floor. He groaned softly as he did the same to hers, quickly leaving her in nothing but the sweater falling off her shoulder and lacy straps that were following the same path. He looked ravenous, his teeth exposed in full sharp force as she pulled on his trademark flannel shirt hard enough to send buttons flying in opposite directions. Letting the fabric hang open, she slid her hands up his chest and around to the nape of his neck while he braced his hands on the back of her thighs. He lifted her fast, thrusting in while balancing her between the bars and his muscular body at the same time. Emma couldn't help the soft moan that escaped her as he moved, his hips going back and forth as she reached to curl one hand around the bars.

" _Killian_ ," she pleaded, the metal cold in her grip. "Do it…."

Her voice lost momentum as the piercing pain of his fangs struck the vein along the side of her neck. Emma's left hand anchored itself on his shoulder while she attempted to hold herself up against the bars with the other. He sucked hard, her head going hazy as his hips surged forward again and again. It didn't take long for her body to weaken as her pulse pounded in her ears, the thumping only slightly faster than his movement.

" _More_ ," she said softly, her eyes falling closed as he continued to drink. "Faster…."

He growled softly, the bars shaking with a vicious rattle as he heeded her request. His thumb pressed hard on her hip as he supported her weight and he moved tirelessly, her body tightening in preparation of the pleasure she knew was just out of reach. His thumb moved quickly to her core as he rutted into her, circling firmly until she cried out and he fell over the edge they'd pushed each other to. He took a final swallow as Emma's world went as gray and cloudy as the sky outside had been. Her body collapsed into him and she felt his hand supporting her head as they slumped to the dirt floor below.

"Emma, _here_ ," his voice beckoned, the cool feel of something wet on her lips. " _Drink_ , darling. Hurry."

She summoned what was left of her strength and attempted a weak sip, almost instantly processing what he was doing. He was giving her his _blood_.

" _Good_ , love - keep going," he encouraged, holding her steady in his lap as she opened her eyes again. "As much as you need."

She blinked clarity back into her eyes, eventually realizing that her sustenance was coming from his wrist. She swallowed once more before pulling back rapidly. He searched her confused stare for whatever she was willing to give, taking his pierced artery and pressing it onto the bite marks he'd left on her skin.

"What….what happened?"

"I think I took too much, love," he answered, his hand holding her chin as he watched her. "Are you okay? Emma, I'm sor-"

" _No_ ," she breathed, her head dropping to his shoulder as she exhaled. "Don't be sorry. I'm okay."

"Love, are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she nodded as she nuzzled his neck. "Just hold me for a minute."

"That I can do, darling," he said soothingly, his hand stroking her hair. "For as long as you'd like."

She relaxed against his chest, thankful that he'd turned them so his back was supported by the iron bars and his bent knees were angled to keep her in place. His fingertips traced nonsense on her bare skin as she regained some sense of reality and he placed a soft kiss against her temple more than once. His words played several times in her mind as she rested there - his commitment to hold her until she no longer wanted him to.

She knew it was wrong or perhaps unfair to think along such lines. She knew it wasn't possible for that stretch of time to be uncontained. She knew all of that, but as his warm embrace wrapped around her and the concept of endless days entered her mind, she allowed herself a moment to think of forever in terms of Killian Jones - and the idea was anything _but_ supernatural.


	7. Thirst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay on this one! This season of Once is wreaking havoc on my muse. A little angst here so I apologize in advance, but hopefully the end makes up for it! Enjoy!

Emma pulled her blanket tight around her shoulders as she sunk into the cushions of the recliner she'd had for years. The room around her was empty of light and life, lit only by a lamp that made its home on a nearby end table. Killian had gone into the hospital a few hours earlier when an urgent trauma code had summoned him to the emergency room unexpectedly. She'd opted to go home, a place she hadn't seen for several days and the collection of walls and windows that once provided her with comfort that _nothing_ else could.

That wasn't true anymore. He had somehow proven just how capable he was of offering that and _quite_ a bit more.

The real vexation was pinpointing the instant of when _exactly_ she decided to accept that. The moment she'd kissed him against that alley wall just after leaving his office had been a real turning point, especially because she hadn't allowed herself to be scared of him. She had every right to - he was _technically_ dangerous and by some opinions perhaps even some sort of monster.

He wasn't a villain though - and Emma knew she'd spend the rest of her life trying to convince him of it if she had to. The irony of spending her remaining years with the man who had endless ones was almost tragic. Well, tragically _perfect_ in a manner of speaking.

A smile snuck it's way across her lips as she quietly remembered the effort she'd put in on the matter of saving his self worth earlier in the day when they'd returned from the crypt. They'd gone to a place that housed the dead in exploration of his past, but when she finally came to, she couldn't help but notice just how quickly it had followed them back. She'd never seen him quite as fragile as he clearly was in the dreary aftermath of the midday storm.

###### 

_Water pitter pattered against the large glass window of what Emma quickly realized to be Killian's bedroom. It was only right that she'd sort out her location rather quickly seeing as how she'd been spending an awful lot of time there lately. The quilt that had been drawn around her was thick and warmly woven, the kind that waited for winter to come calling. She sat up slightly, cringing a bit at how stiff her body felt. God, how long had she been out?_

" _About three hours or so, love," he said softly from the doorway, his words answering the question she did not ask. "You were, umm….pretty out of it."_

_He looked as handsome as always, but with more uncertainty than he'd had the last time she woke up to find him in this stance. He'd pulled on a blue and black flannel shirt she hadn't seen before, one that would have certainly emphasized the color of his eyes if they hadn't taken on such a sudden gray hue. He'd obviously spent a good part of her midday slumber engaged in the old habit of self loathing._

" _Yeah it seems so," she agreed, her head tilting as she decided to try and lighten the mood. "What happened to my mind being an impenetrable steel trap?"_

_She gave him a playful smirk with her returned quip, the line forcing him to give up a weak smile. It didn't reach his eyes though and as her head pulled together a few fragments of memory, she soon remembered why._

_The history. The crypt. The pain. The bite - and the blood loss._

" _I've never had much luck in your head, love," he assured her, moving a little closer. "The lack of lucidity works against your defenses so you were easier to read given the circumstances. Poor form, I know - but I needed to know you were okay."_

_He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, tilting his head to analyze her appearance. It was an act that he did often and one that would have made her uncomfortable if it was anyone else, but he had a way with making it so intimate. His lips pressed gently together as his hand gave a shaky reach toward the space on her neck that was still slightly achy. He let out a soft gasp as he touched the bite marks familiarly with those guilty fingers. She shifted, trying to pull his attention away from what he'd done back to her._

" _You're never going to stop doing that, are you?"_

_He smirked at that, his expression settling just enough that she extended her hand to take his free one. His eyes brightened slightly and a sudden satisfaction of being able to reassure him filled her bones. Being able to save him from any percentage of his agony was something she'd wanted since the first time he'd pierced her skin._

" _There's a long list of things I'd prefer to never stop doing, love," he replied with a teasing smile. "So you're going to have to be more specific."_

_It was something that happened in those recent moments of shame and self loathing - his deflecting use of charm showing up to combat the painful feelings she knew he was burying. Emma knew there had to be an unfailing way to comfort him, but she'd been having a hell of a time learning just what it was._

" _You know what I'm talking about," she replied, stroking his forearm before letting her fingers find his as they pressed on her neck. "I'm fine, Killian."_

" _I….I know," he stuttered, lowering their hands and threading their hands through one another's. "I just….I haven't done that - the whole losing control like that in a very long time, love."_

_The crease between his eyebrows deepened as he continued to watch her, his studious pupils trying to decipher her emotions. She matched his expression as vexation set in. Was he upset? Was he angry with himself? Whatever emotion it was that was taking over his features was unsettling and though her mind was anything but clear, she began trying to think of ways to push away his uncertainty._

" _Killian-"_

" _Emma, I…."_

_Their words followed each other's fast, their simultaneous need to fill the insecure expanse of air hanging between them suddenly evident. His weak grin flexed just barely at the corners of his mouth as he looked back down toward their tangled hands and let his lips part before pressing them closed once more. What was going on in his head?_

_His mouth had barely opened again when his phone buzzed on the nearby dresser. His eyebrows furrowed as he snatched it, offering a rough greeting and several 'okay' confirmations followed by a 'be there soon'. Emma's heart sunk slightly as he ended the call and tossed the device onto the sheets with a sigh._

" _You have to go."_

" _Aye - emergency surgery," he nodded, taking her hand and pulling it to his lips. "Can….can I see you later? I was hoping we could still talk-"_

" _Yeah….yeah, of course," she agreed. "Just call me when you're done. I'll grab my stuff and head home-"_

" _Nonsense, love," he cut in, squeezing her fingers and reaching to tuck back a stray strand of her hair. "I, uh….I got some things I thought you might like to eat for breakfast. You're welcome to eat before you go or you can even just….stay. If you'd like to."_

_It startled Emma how much she did want to in that moment, but the hope flickering in his eyes wasn't quite enough to outweigh the uncertainty that had evolved between them since she woke up. She knew she should go home - at least for a little while._

" _How about you save whatever you bought-" she started, summoning her best fake smile. "-and you can make me breakfast another morning?"_

_The way his lips pressed together told her it wasn't the time frame he was wanting to hear. His insecure posture and unsteady hands needed to hear her label it as 'tomorrow morning'. Her tongue in her cheek seemed to keep her from giving him that confirmation, though she had zero reasons why. He mustered that casual smirk of feigned ease and Emma felt the odd tension of unfinished business settle between them._

" _Of course, love," he nodded. "I suppose waiting won't be the worst thing in the world."_

_He was right about that. It was this whole notion of leaving his bed and going back to the real world that might be though._

###### 

Emma groaned softly at the memory, spying the clock on the wall and glaring at how it mocked her waiting. She couldn't remember how long she'd been sitting there in hopes that he'd land on her dusk drenched doorstep, but it had definitely been long enough. Her phone chimed at the moment she finally decided so and the screen lit up with a lead on a new perp. She scanned the profile quickly, her eyes darting back to the time as she contemplated whether or not the job could be the distraction she needed.

Well, there was no reason not to find out - especially since her _preferred_ diversion was medically preoccupied.

She rose to her feet with a huff, checking for the text or missed call alert she'd yet to receive from him before heading to the front door where she'd left her boots. Tugging her jacket from the wall hanger and pulling it snugly over her shoulders, Emma tried to remind herself that she _should_ go - she had to keep busy while _he_ was busy. Besides, emergencies could take hours and it wasn't like he wouldn't know exactly where or _how_ to find her when he was finished.

The smirk that curved at the corners of her mouth reddened her cheeks as she slipped out the door, clicking the deadbolt behind her. Something about being a minor stakeout and one arrest away from seeing Killian again set Emma on a slight jog to her car. Just a few hours of work and then they could go _right_ back to play.

###### 

_Son of a-_

The incomplete string of curse words tumbled around in Emma's head the instant she suddenly came to. The room was dim and empty of sound, leaving only the droning beep of a machine to meet her ears as she tested consciousness. Her mind shifted slightly as she forced her eyes to peek open just enough. The battle wasn't fairly wagered though and her gaze fell shut again quickly before any sense could be gathered. She wasn't sure where she was yet or even how she'd ended up in such a disoriented state, but as her vision made its second attempt, two things became somewhat clear.

She was in a hospital room - and she was hurt. What the _hell_ had happened?

Her head turned limply to the side as she took in the sterile surroundings vaguely. She felt weak, a throbbing in her head making blink heavily as she fought her dwindling awareness. A soft whimper escaped her as she swallowed hard, a noise that was slightly amplified when she tried to move. It was so oddly and shakingly reminiscent of the last time she'd woken up there, but this time, there was no mysteriously comforting doctor to open her eyes to. Her addled mind flickered with the memory and she nearly fell back into oblivion again.

 _Killian_.

The letters of his name loosely arranged in her head as she allowed herself to default back to him as her newly found safety net. The _hospital_ \- she was in the _hospital_. He _had_ to be somewhere close by. Her fingers reached toward the bandage on her arm that was holding the IV in place and she fumbled with the adhesive corners in an attempt to disconnect the tubes.

Yes - _Killian_. She had to find _him_.

"Emma."

The sound of her name was so faint in the low light of the room that she was almost certain she'd imagined it. She hadn't though and the labored gasping for air that followed the whispering voice was suddenly everything she needed to hear.

"Killian?"

Her own voice was heavy and a bit slurred as she hovered on the brink of consciousness. She caught brief flashes of him as she faded in and out - the way his eyebrows knit together with utmost concern, the deep and anxious blue of his irises, the manner in which he'd thrown his scrubs and lab coat to the chair by the door before barging to her bedside. She was enough about her wits to catch the conflict in his stare and to hear the jagged pattern of his breathing. He'd probably been about to head home, his post surgery attire made up of the sweatpants that hung just right on his hips and a plain white tee. They were clothes that suggested he'd had the intention of stopping by to cozy up next to her at home and maybe even spend the night tangled up in _her_ sheets this time.

They weren't there though. They were _here_ \- and the worried look he was wearing told her he had no idea why.

"Killian…."

She tested the tense air with his name once more, still a little uncertain that he was real in that moment. His hair hung in that lengthy unkempt style, shielding his eyes partially as he scanned her skin. He touched her in a gentle and extremely cautious method, his ghostlike fingertips trailing the length of her arm as he quickly removed her IV and wrapped her arm. He tossed away the rest of the monitoring tubes and loosened the blood pressure cuff in a fluid motion that Emma barely felt. The machines beeped as they were pushed aside and the sound nudged her toward reality just a little more.

"I'm going to get you out of here," his voice hurried. "Just hold on, love."

The blankets were pulled back and his arm carefully slipped under her legs, wrapping his embrace supportively around her weak frame as he lifted her. His chest was firm and familiarly strong as her head fell gently against his chest. One of her hands reached for support against his shoulder and he steadied his protective hold around her helpless body.

"Stay with me, love," he all but whispered, his feet turning them into the dim hallway. "I've got you."

The words were well practiced ones - she'd heard them several times from this man. Her brain suddenly put together the recollection of the first time he'd said them and how that verbal reassurance had brought her to the safety of a room much like the one they were now leaving. It wouldn't have made sense to anyone else, but even as injured as she clearly was, vacating the hospital for his care was definitely her desired plan.

No other doctor would fight to heal her like Killian would - and right now, he was her best chance at a safe and sound recovery. The world cloaked itself in irony as her eyes dropped closed and she let the vampire who had a certain talent for saving her do it _one_ more time.

###### 

The air was cool when she awoke, the remaining slivers of a day's sunlight filtering in through the breeze gathering curtains in Killian's bedroom. Emma's head pounded heavily, only adding to her confusion about what time it was. It had been pitch black outside when his careful footsteps had carried her from the corner room of the hospital, but the dwindling light just beyond the window promised a fast approaching sunset. Had she slept an _entire_ day?

Her breath caught slightly in her throat as she looked down at the cuts and two rather large gashes on her hands. Her fingers flexed as she tested out just how painful her injuries were. She winced a bit as the silence circled in around her, an uncomfortable sound that caused her to wonder where he might be. She didn't have to wait long to find out.

"Emma…."

She heard him before she turned to see where he stood, that breathy tone of his voice a strange mix of relief and fear. He lingered in the doorway in a manner that felt suspicious. It was unsettling and Emma straightened up against the headboard of his bed, her hand smoothing the space on the sheets where she was hoping he'd sit. This time, it didn't appear that hope was falling in her favor.

"How do you feel?"

"I'm….I'm okay," she replied, lifting her hand to her scalp. "My head hurts."

"You fell pretty hard," he nodded, holding up a plastic bottle. "Some water and some more rest - you should be feeling better soon."

Emma squinted at his directions, the edge of his words cutting into her quite awkwardly. There was something very off about the way he was acting so businesslike. He crossed his arms over his chest after a moment and she couldn't help but analyze him. Something was _wrong_.

"Killian…."

The way she said his name seemed to strike a nerve and he shuffled his stance, taking a subtle step backward. Emma moved without thought, lowering her feet to the floor without breaking their locked stares. She paused a moment when his eyes begged her to and her gaze fell to the scrapes on her knuckles.

"You didn't…."

Her voice hung in the thick air, the question of why he hadn't healed her making her stomach turn. He drew a deep breath and dropped his own gaze to the restored wood floor below. Something was _definitely_ wrong.

"Why?"

"Because it's just….not right, Emma."

"Not…. _right?_ What does….what do you mean?"

She moved a little closer, her feet cautious so as not to spook this deer in the headlights he'd become. He shook his head slightly as he ran a lazy hand down his face. The lessened distance provided her with a better look at his appearance and the lack of confidence it seemed to hold. His eyes were bright blue but very bloodshot, their irritated color bringing out the red of his flannel shirt. His hair had obviously become the victim of his frustrated hands and it stuck up in a few different directions. He looked exhausted, an observation that concerned her greatly considering the fact that this man didn't require sleep.

"Killian," she said softly. "What's wrong?"

" _This_ , Emma," he replied after a moment, his tone foreign and quiet. "This….this is _wrong_."

"This? _Us?"_

"Emma," he sighed, toying with his ring and staring at the floor. "What do you remember about last night?"

Her mind spun in circles, trying to push aside how much his answer had hurt like hell while she tried to sort through the events that had left her physically a little worse for wear. She squinted as he waited, her heart sinking in her chest as his whole body seemed to slump.

"I was working….chasing a guy who'd been on the run for a couple of weeks," she started, trying to stabilize her voice. "I fell and I woke up in a room - a hospital room I think."

"Then after that?"

"You…. _you_ found me," she recalled. "You brought me here."

"Aye," he confirmed, his jaw flexing familiarly. "That was almost a whole day ago. You've been sleeping this whole time and….I didn't _want_ to give you blood. You weren't able to make the choice for yourself, but I _had_ to - just enough that you'd be okay."

"Oh," she said with brief confusion. "So you took care of me….again? Why is that wrong?"

"It's not that, Emma," he continued. "It's just….while you were asleep, I did some research on this man you've been after. Some guy named Walsh from New York. It appears he had your name as much as you had his."

"Had _my_ name? You're saying he-" she swallowed. "-wanted to _hurt_ me?"

"Aye," he answered in that unstable tone. "I was so…. _angry_ when I found out, Emma. I….I _had_ to do something."

His speech was tumultuous, crisscrossing in confusion and some shade of dread as he tried to explain himself. Emma found herself scrambling a bit for clarity as she tried to process his words, but it didn't take long for the color to drain from her expression once she realized what he was _almost_ saying.

"Killian, you….did you hurt him?"

"I think….more than that," he answered, the fading sunlight highlighting the pain in his features. "I found him and I….bit him - I bit him _hard_ , Emma."

"But what…. _how_ ….is he-"

"I-I don't know for sure," he stammered. "I left him by the bridge near the woods. He was bleeding terribly and I….I _could_ have saved him, but I didn't….I didn't _want_ to."

The agony of consequence was scribbled all over his stressed expression. Emma's eyes hovered on the way his entire body tensed and the way his lip quivered with the words he just _couldn't_ say. As much as he never had been to her, she could see how much he _felt_ like a monster - and she hated that look on him more than any other.

"W-Why?"

"He _hurt_ you, Emma," he replied, his words clipped and bitter. "He could have done more than that, but somehow a passerby saw you and called an ambulance. Nobody knew it was _him_ ….nobody was going to hold _him_ accountable. But Emma, I….I felt it - the pain and the _fear_. It hit me just as it did you, but not hard enough for me to find you. I-I couldn't help you….so I had to stop him."

The tension between them thickened with the admission hanging in the air. He'd done what he had lived in constant fright of - he'd been unable to stop himself from _hurting_ someone. Even more than that, he couldn't bring himself to regret what he'd done. Emma wasn't sure which one of those facts was harder for his soul to carry.

She moved tentatively toward him, her worry and need to keep him close outweighing the emotions that had been hindering her. He straightened, his eyes hovering over her as the moment seemed to hit him like a bag of bricks. The words were there - the ones that she thought _might_ stop him - but as she reached for his hand, he pulled back with a quick shake of his head.

"Emma, you have to go," he said brokenly. "You can't be here anymore."

"Killian - _no_ ….stop," she pleaded. "I know what you're trying to do and please _don't_ ….don't do this to us-"

"I don't _want_ to do this! But I'm a vampire, Emma….I'm selfish and thoughtless and I take what I want. I'm not _good_. I don't do the right thing! I lose control and it's….it's _wrong_ , Emma. But I…. _I_ …."

"Killian," she cut in, reaching for his hands. " _Please_ -"

"But I _have_ to do the right thing-" he decided, taking her touch and lowering it back to her sides. "-for _you_. I can't allow my choices to haunt you anymore."

"This isn't the right thing, Killian."

"Emma, I….I _love_ you," he finally admitted. "Which is why I _have_ to do this. I have to let you go."

The world fell out from beneath her feet, the possible happiness she'd thought they could have slipping through her grip faster than was fair. Emma felt her heart breaking into shards as she scrambled for the words that might stop him. She _needed_ him to stay. She needed him to give them a chance.

"No…. _no_ , I don't _want_ that, Killian-"

"Why not?"

"Because I _love_ you!"

His eyes went wide as she gasped, nearly choking on the words she wished she'd said a long time ago. The expression working its way across his features was full of conflict and disbelief. It wasn't exactly the reaction she'd hoped for - but then again, these weren't _exactly_ the circumstances she'd imagined they'd be in when she first said those three important words.

"Then you have to stop-"

"I _can't!"_

The reply left her in the form of a yell, surprising him as he appeared to fight the way the declaration begged to be accepted. Emma stepped confidently into his space, her mouth trembling as she tried to push back the breakdown she was approaching. She'd said it now. She'd _told_ him. There was no turning back now.

"Even if I could," she said, tears lingering in her eyes. "I _wouldn't_."

His defenses fell almost instantly, a soft sigh falling from him as he finally let her take his fingers between hers. His touch was cold, but the way it started to warm when his palms pressed into hers made her hope spark just slightly. He looked down at the way their skin fused together, studying the lines of her hands like he was trying to memorize them. She understood why - she'd been doing the same thing with the hypnotic color staring back at her.

"Fine," he breathed, his eyes that fiery blue and his shoulders straightening. "Then don't."

It took Emma far too long to process his defiant words, the time suddenly frozen in that expanse of space. His breath was ragged as he tried to calm the energy he'd held behind his argument and his bold stare pulled Emma closer by a fraction. Something shifted between them and the tension snapped, everything collapsing into a pile of submission at their feet as she waited for certainty that this was truly happening. He took a steadying breath as his hands flexed at his sides, his control dissolving as the seconds ticked by at an excruciatingly slow rate.

This _had_ to be it - was he giving _in?_

"Kil-"

She wasn't able to complete the collection of sounds that pulled together his name before his lips found hers. One hand cupped her jaw while his opposite palm pressed hard against her back, their bodies flush against one another as their tongues tangled passionately. He held her firmly as his lips fell to her neck, tracing the long line of her collarbone while her fingernails dug densely into his scalp. He grunted softly at her forceful touch and nipped softly at the heated flesh of her chest when her head fell back.

" _Emma_ …."

His tone was labored as his fingers fumbled, slipping the fabric of the shirt she'd borrowed from her shoulder and laying his lips gently over the exposed skin left behind. Emma was positive she was going to combust at any second, but his mouth was relentless as he set her further ablaze with his skilled kiss and soothing tongue. Her hands gripped his shoulder blades and he lifted her, speeding them across the hardwood floor of his bedroom and back to the four post bed where they'd first engaged in this burning act of what felt a _lot_ like making love.

 _Love_? Was _that_ what this was?

The question was lost in the deep, confused recesses of her brain as he pulled her shirt over her head and quickly set back to work on devouring her neckline. The mess of hair hanging across his forehead fell against her chest and the feel of it softly brushing against her flesh ignited a subtle shudder. Emma moaned at the feel of his mouth on her and her body tingled with the memory of just how attentive he'd been with those lips in the past. Her bare back was flat against the sheets in mere seconds, the cool feel of the satin pulling her attention back to the immortal man hovering over her.

"Emma-"

He'd paused, his arms holding him up as his hands rested flat against the mattress. He stared down at her with every ounce of desire and a few fractions of the denial she'd seen only moments ago. Emma found herself powerless to know what he was thinking as she fell right back into his blinding blue gaze. He was every bit as disoriented by this new and perhaps dangerous territory they'd entered as she was, but the flicker of light she could see in the dark mystery typically shrouding this man told her just what she needed to know.

He wasn't giving up. He was giving in to love - and surrendering to being completely in love with _her_.

That lightning speed he possessed rendered them naked in a matter of moments, their scorching skin equally bare as her hands followed the contours of his back. He held himself over her as his fingers wrapped around her thighs and he jerked her closer. Emma felt her legs move of their own volition as they wrapped around his waist and his achingly hard length rubbed slowly against her core. Allowing her head to fall further into the pillow, Emma let her hips rotate as he slid through the growing wetness between her legs.

God, she'd _missed_ this - every single movement she knew he was capable of making and the dozen different ways those efforts would make her fall into complete oblivion.

"Killian - _yes_ ," she breathed, reaching for his shoulders as they moved slowly. "Please-"

Her soft begging was met with a needy gasp and with a shaky exhale, he pushed inside harder than expected. A wanting moan escaped Emma as her fingernails pressed into the skin of his lower back with a dull pressure. The air was thick between them and Emma fought not to choke on it as he began to move, his muscles solid and flexing as he began that deliberate push and pull of his hips. Emma held tight to his back as her breath stuttered each time he shoved inside.

 _This_ was how it was supposed to be. _This_ was right.

The realization threw her into a frenzy, one full of so much hazy and building pleasure that the painful words they'd shared only minutes earlier dissolved into the sheets beneath them. Her senses vibrated as his control continued to fade, his speed sporadic and her pulse pounding until she heard that sound - the one that should have terrified her from the start but somehow never had.

The strength behind his thrusts wavered, his hips circling lightly as he pulled back just enough for her to catch a glimpse of the feral version of him - the vampire that lived just below the complicated surface of Killian Jones. His fangs were that same piercing white, the fading sunlight in the room not darkening the hypnotic brilliance of them the least bit. His eyes were darker, the pupils blown wide over the navy blue as the veins throbbed in a deeper and somewhat menacing hue. He looked completely _wrecked_. He looked like he wanted to wreck _her_.

Emma watched him, her teeth worrying her lower lip as he tore his eyes away from hers. The war he was waging with the bloodlust was evident as he concealed his fangs and tried to catch his breath. The pain that started to consume him was too much to witness and Emma quickly lifted her hand back to the side of his cheek. His head turned back, following her touch as his vision aligned with hers again, the smooth effort of his still desperate body rubbing firmly against hers.

"Emma, love….I _can't_ …."

"Killian," she coaxed, her fingers trailing to the back of his scalp. "Look at me…."

"Emma….I….I _need_ ….I _can't_ …."

His head fell fractionally, the familiar motion of him lowering his teeth toward her neck making her heart race. His thick, dark hair skimmed the side of her jaw as she waited for the sharp pain typically brought on by his bite - but it never came. Instead, his forehead pressed gently on her shoulder as his pace quickened again, clearly fraught by the conflict he was feeling.

He was holding back. He didn't _want_ to bite her - not like this. Yet as his breath fell hot and trembling on her collarbone, Emma realized how much she _needed_ him to. She needed to feel that dangerous, unusual, completely unbelievable bond they shared.

"Killian," she managed, her hand stroking the back of his head as he lifted to glance down at her. "I….I _want_ you to. _Please_ …."

"Emma, I shouldn't-"

"I _need_ you to," she pleaded, her body arching slightly as he pushed deeper inside. " _Please_ ….do it, Killian. _Bite_ me."

"Bloody _hell_ ," he gasped, his accent heavy as his eyes blackened. "I….love you…."

Fire surged through Emma's veins as his teeth sunk into her neck, his low growl nearly a moan and her fingernails indenting deeper into his skin. Time seemed to slow as his hard length continued that torturous drag, moving in and out with a strength she'd missed more than she knew she ever could. Her head filled with that well known haze as he drank, taking life from the thick vein pulsing on her throat while her hand tangled in his messy hair.

He was holding her tight, right over the dangerous brink of destruction - and it was the most alive she'd _ever_ felt.

The final jolt of his hips toppled them both over the edge, his bite weakening as he sighed against her skin and they collapsed together. The soft press of his pricked finger against the puncture he'd left behind barely registered in her addled brain, but as she settled back into a semi aware state, the invitation of sleep began to pull hard at her limp body.

" _Killian_ ," she mumbled, her words vibrating against his chest. "I…."

"I know, love," he said in return, his tone suggesting he knew where her voice was headed. "We….we can talk later. You need to sleep."

"I don't….I can…."

" _Emma_."

The way he emphasized her name was not to be trifled with. The darkness filling the room and the way his thumb traced her bare shoulder told Emma that they didn't need any more words. She only needed this - to be here in his bed, naked and happy on a level she still didn't fully understand. She only needed _him_.

"Will you stay here….with me?"

Her eyes flickered opened with the last bit of strength she could muster, the sight of his deep blue and very sated ones making her stomach flip flop. He looked at her in a way she had never quite seen before and that strange, confusing, coveted four letter word prodded her heart when he gave up a half smile.

"Yes, love," he whispered, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "I'll stay."


	8. Sustain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it took me so long to complete this chapter! Hopefully you're all still with me despite my muse being so fickle. Anyway, here it is! Enjoy!

It wasn't a complete surprise to wake up to the empty sheets beside her, the fabric faintly warm in a way that confirmed he'd stuck around through the dark hours and somewhat into the dawn of daylight. Emma sat up, running absent minded fingers through her tangled locks of blonde hair while she absorbed the silent space filling the room. It was riddled only with the dull crackle of a dwindling fire under the mantle as the embers flickered weakly in the dim light.

At least that was something - the care he'd taken for her comfort and warmth despite his absence. She could only hope the lack of the man she'd lost herself in the previous night wasn't permanent. Something about the words they'd finally said and the evenness of his breath as it had lulled her to sleep told her it wasn't.

Her now rather aware vision darted blankly around the room, the investigative nature of her mind taking over as she searched for signs of where he'd gone off to. He woke rather often during the nights they'd spent together and though he'd often endure those waking moments watching her slumber, it wasn't unusual to see that he'd risen before her. The house was nearly noiseless, the quiet telling her he hadn't headed downstairs to make breakfast or to mill around the library.

She pressed her lips together softly as she realized that she didn't know much about other hobbies he might enjoy since the main thing he indulged in while she was around was her. She'd seen the antique piano near the entrance of the house and had noticed the small herb garden just beyond the back porch, those simple things suggesting he did have other interests beyond the freckles he traced on her skin or the experimental ways in which he could bring her to the brink of complete ecstasy. Something about those little bits of evidence in his home made him seem so…. _human_.

He'd always been that way with her - real, honest, loving. _A true gentleman_ , she thought quietly as her hand brushed his pillow.

Rising from the bed, Emma pulled a nearby blanket around her. She vaguely remembered it being the one she'd been wrapped up in hours before - the same one that had kept her warm until she woke up to the cold blue of his sad stare. Her stomach turned at the memory of the argument that nearly ended them, the words they'd exchanged yanking her back into the uncertain world where the two of them being together seemed totally insane.

But it wasn't - and she _really_ needed to find him. She really needed to make sure _he_ knew that.

She slipped carefully down the staircase, her bare feet causing her to tiptoe at a less than audible pace. Her hair tumbled in wild waves down her shoulders and she swept it to one side while running a careful hand over her neck. She barely recalled the feel of his fangs sinking into her skin and the manner in which his soft sucking made her head feel lighter. When he'd collapsed against her and the hot satin sheets beneath their intertwined legs, he'd left the small bite marks in place. It took only seconds for her to realize she was almost too okay with how he'd claimed her so gently. She liked being his - in fact, she felt like she could _live_ for it. Being with this immortal man had brought her that strangest sense of beautiful certainty and while forever was a concept she didn't typically put her faith in, something about this bond they shared made her want that.

She could only hope once she finally located him that he'd feel the same.

The systematic walk through his house was something she was not likely to ever forget. The smooth feel of the hardwood floors under her bare feet had become such an unexpected comfort and the cool temperature of them reminded her of just how warm his sheets would be once they could tumble back into them together. Emma pursed her lips, trying to ignore the idea of any other outcome as she landed in the empty living room.

Where _was_ he?

Without a noise to be heard, Emma let instinct take over as she headed toward the place she usually found him on mornings like this one - the kitchen. The space was vacant, dim and faintly smelling of coffee and something a bit sweeter. Her pulse thrummed as she wandered toward the counter with a curiosity she just couldn't shove aside. It didn't take long for her eyes to center on a covered plate resting under the hood of the titanium stove - well, perhaps it was the handwritten note on top that gathered her attention. It could have only been left by the man she wished she'd woken up next to.

_**Hope you slept well, Emma. I thought you might be hungry when you awoke. I'm needed at the hospital this morning, but meet me at noon in the woods. We should talk.** _

_**Love, Killian** _

Her eyes widened and her heart flip flopped at the word choice he'd chose to end the letter with, her mouth fighting the slight urge to grin as she traced the curve of his penmanship lightly with her finger. It was a word she'd not known much of over the course of her lonely life and one that sparked fear in her mind more often than not. Yet with Killian, it didn't. _He_ was different. Something about him was just…. _right_.

Emma set the card down next to the plate, her mind still lingering on that four letter term as she lifted the lid. Her breath exhaled softly as her lips curved into a small smirk at the breakfast he'd left for her. He'd caught on very quickly that she had a thing for pancakes and made them for her pretty regularly when they woke up together. Her eyes brightened with humor as she realized today was no different. He'd piled them carefully - three altogether - and paired it with fresh blueberries. She scanned theblue pattern of the ripe fruit, following the trail of it from one side of the plate to the other. The care he'd taken in making sure she ate properly even though he didn't need similar sustenance was always endearing, but the smile pulling on the color of her lips wasn't just from that.

No, it wasn't just the fact that he'd done something so sweet for her, but more the teasing way in which he did it. Trying her hardest to envision the handsomely taunting grin on his face while he'd prepared the plate, Emma shook her head with a slight laugh at his creation - blueberry eyes and a matching mouth complete with whipped cream fangs.

She ran her finger lightly over the intricate details of the sterling silver fork as she breathed a careful sigh of relief. The breakfast he'd put such clever effort into confirmed the one thing she truly needed to know.

He really _did_ love her.

###### 

She showered slowly, letting the steaming water roll down her skin as she soaked in the daylight that filled the bathroom through the single frosted window. She'd noted the time at just after eleven when she'd slipped behind the glass door and turned the temperature up with a pull on the silver nozzle, steam filling the room as she sought out the soap. Her hands lathered the cleansing bar quickly, the smell reminding her of a former morning when his wet hands had smoothed that same scent over her flushed bare skin. There wasn't much of a clean component to that particular shower - well, at least not until _after_ the hot water started to dwindle.

It was difficult not to remember moments like those as Emma pressed her fingertips lightly against the shower tiles. The frigid feel of them sent her into a whirlwind of memories - the way he'd kissed her with that typical fiery passion as water drenched every inch of their bodies, his firm grip as he lifted her leg to wrap around his hip, the echoing sound of their equally gasping breaths and strained curses. He teased her skin like no one else ever had and not just with his fangs. His protective hold and deep blue stare seemed to possess her endlessly, a formed detail of their torrid relationship that Emma wasn't sure she could now survive without.

She could start a wildfire with what she felt for him - and she'd let those passionate flames engulf her without a second thought.

She dried quickly, twisting her hair into a loose braid and pulling her sweater over her head. The room was quiet with the fire out and the lack of sound was uncomfortable as she counted the moments until she could go after him. She crossed the floor in distraction, lifting the television remote that controlled the flatscreen on the adjacent wall and furrowing her eyebrows at the news program sounding through the speakers. She recognized Sidney Glass, the regular afternoon reporter, but it was the current story being addressed that caught her attention. Her thumb clicked the volume button frantically as her eyes widened.

" _...the man was brought into the hospital between one and two o'clock this morning with substantial wounds in what police are calling a possible animal attack. He was treated for a mild concussion and received twelve stitches for a laceration on his neck. We were unable to speak directly with medical personnel but we do know that the man was discovered by Dr. Killian Jones, one of our local physicians who sees this sort of trauma quite regularly, and his statement has assured us that the patient will be discharged once he makes a very likely full recovery."_

 _Holy shit_ , Emma thought silently as she hit the power off key.

A low rumble met her ears as she wandered to the window and her eyes scanned the gray sky overhead, her mind swirling with this new information. She knew that wasn't the _whole_ story - of course it wasn't. She tried not to think of how hard all of this must be hitting Killian - and how he was working through an event that would typically prod him into some _serious_ self loathing. The clouds seemed to hint at the rain's imminent return and Emma pursed her lips, hoping that the weather would hold until she could make her way through the trees. The minutes on the clock were moving excruciatingly slow and as lightning flickered dully in the distance, she resolved that being slightly early would have to be okay.

As much as she wanted to stabilize whatever was happening between them, she wanted to be there for him even more - because god only knows what he'd been putting himself through since she fell asleep in his arms.

Plodding back down the stairs, she snagged her boots next to the door and slipped them on fast before borrowing his spare jacket from the hook. The smooth leather was just so Killian and the faint smile that graced her expression as she took in the familiar scent wasn't something she could hinder. Her hand stumbled a bit before she pulled on the doorknob, a surge of fear prodding her to pause. She didn't know what he was doing or why he'd requested she meet him past the edge of the forested backyard, but the twinge of terror spiking her nerves wasn't due to the supernatural circumstances she'd spun herself into. If anything, this uneasy feeling was caused by the impending conversation and hopeful explanation she was about to walk toward.

The irony of being more terrified of his emotional human man side versus his feral vampire one was far too ironic to ignore. No, the Killian Jones that could kill her wasn't frightening in the slightest, but the one who could break her heart was suddenly the scariest person she could imagine.

Flexing her fingers against the jacket collar, Emma held tight to the belief that he didn't want to hurt her - and it was that faith that pushed in the direction of the tall trees.

###### 

The wooded area behind his home had always existed with a bit of mystery in her mind, the towering white birches and faint call of crows overhead adding to the eerie picture as she walked. The dimming sky and lack of pathway once her feet left the cobblestones should have made her nervous and while it certainly did, Emma quickly noted just how much more motivated those factors made her. Her boots moved fast, assisting her in navigating her way to the opening they'd paused at once before - the place where he'd halted to kiss her before pointing out the small stone structure through the tree branches.

He'd said it was a starting point to narrate his past. Emma has to wonder if it would be a suitable spot for their story to begin - this impossible future she hoped they might have. Her heart pounded at the idea as she took in a deep breath and let the breeze blow through her tangled hair with a promise of the approaching storm.

"Swan?"

Her eyes closed briefly, her ears absorbing the sound of his smooth voice and the way it wrapped around her name. He'd called her so many affectionate things over the time they'd known one another, but this one was her favorite, even with the hint of questioning tacked onto the end of it. Her feet rustled the leaves below as her lips pressed lightly together and she peered back over her shoulder to where she knew he was standing - and how he made such a simple act look so attractive wasn't something she'd _ever_ been able to deduce.

"Killian."

He stood still, his deep cobalt eyes hinging firmly on hers while the sky took on a bit more gray just behind him. The wind whistled softly and sporadically as the only audible noise between them and Emma was thankful that it muffled the sound of her nervous breath. He looked slightly relieved, his lips parted with the hint of a smile. He'd dressed simply but very handsomely - dark jeans that trailed down to a pair of all black Converse and a charcoal deep neck shirt. His hair was damp and somewhat of an adorable mess while his beard looked thicker and darker than usual. She wondered how long it had been since he shaved but more so how long he could go without her _wanting_ him to. He was always the picture of excruciatingly good looking, right down to the stubble on his jaw and the deep scar beneath his eye - one she really wanted to know more about.

"Hi."

His greeting was tentative, almost like he couldn't believe she'd _truly_ shown up. There was something sad in that realization and Emma felt her eyes water as she watched him. He was apparently equally concerned he might lose her too.

"I mean….you're _here_ ," he said, moving a bit closer. "I was worried you might…."

His voice drifted off unstably, his fear resting between them as she adjusted her stance to properly face him. It was obvious that he was almost as nervous as she was as his mouth opened and closed without speech. She hadn't expected _this_ \- that they might stand in the middle of the woods facing the issue of not knowing what to say. It was suddenly more terrifying than any conversation at all.

His lips parted in an attempt to speak once more, spiking Emma's nerves as she waited for him to explain or argue or question or _completely_ break - but he didn't. Thunder rolled just behind him almost simultaneously, causing her to jump slightly as the sound vibrated through the empty space between the trees. Killian caught sight of her minor fear instantly and moved toward her cautiously, a reaction the made Emma's heart throb with aching affection. He smiled weakly as he got closer but halted with a flinch just several paces in front of her when a raindrop fell onto his cheek. There was something so endearing about the natural, _completely_ human reaction to the water falling from the sky that she couldn't help the tiny giggle that escaped her. He straightened his shoulders and cocked an eyebrow at her, his lips faltering into a relieved grin as the weather surrounded them.

Emma had never seen a pattern of rain evolve so quickly and she gasped at the way it seemed to mirror everything that had happened between them - a whirlwind of stormy emotions and perilous conditions that somehow led her to this point where her mind was as clear as a deep blue sky. She'd come out into the elements to find this man, but as she watched the rain roll through his dark hair and down his drenched skin, she realized how scared he'd been that she might not come. She wanted to say something - to tell him _anything_ that would banish that thought - but his eyes told her that he didn't need words at the moment.

He just needed _her_.

His feet moved in a flash, one hand taking gentle hold of her cheek as the other tangled in her long and suddenly very wet hair. The kiss he pulled her into was desperate and disbelieving as he breathed her in like the life force she truly seemed to be for him. Emma let herself drown in the passionate rhythm of his lips as her hands pressed lightly on his chest, clutching the wet material of his shirt in an effort to keep a steady stance. The storm shifted into a total downpour after only a minute or so and he pried his mouth from hers with a lazy laugh as the water continued to soak both of them.

"I should apologize for the weather," he smiled, his forehead leaning on hers. "I thought we would have a little longer before the storm hit."

"I don't mind," she shivered as he held her close. "Though I'll expect a fire to warm up later."

"A request I'm happy to accommodate, love," he nodded, pulling back to look at her as he tilted his head toward the crypt. "Let's see if it gives way a little before we go. We can wait inside. I….I've got something I wanted to show you."

Emma gave a slight nod and he held his hand out to to her, water still streaming down his pale face as he gave her that coaxing gaze. Her fingers linked loosely through his in a way that made her believe they were made to interlock. The metal of his ring was icy cold and it sent a chill down her spine as they headed toward the propped open gate. Drops of rain slid down the metal bars to the wet dirt below and the storm darkened the granite engraving above the entrance that held the letters of his last name. The daylight was sparse with the dark clouds hovering overhead, but she could see the glow of several candles inside. Letting her heart pound a little harder was all too easy.

"You look freezing, love," he commented with a soft smile, peeling the wet jacket off her arms and rubbing them lightly. "I think I have an extra sweater in my bag - hold on."

She nodded, her eyes following him as he crossed the dirt floor of the room. The rain pounded the exterior of the tiny building as Emma realized the back door of the crypt was currently propped open. Her stare was almost magnetic as she watched the water hit the ground through the alternate entryway and her feet carried her without thought toward it. A small blast of cool air brushed her cheeks as she paused, her eyes catching sight of a small row of pink flowers growing along the cobblestone path leading back outside.

"Middlemist flowers," his voice offered, his presence suddenly at her back as he pulled the sweater around her. "Quite a rarity."

"They're beautiful," she commented as she leaned into his embrace. "Have they always grown here?"

"My mother used to plant them when I was young," he answered. "It's the one thing I remember her always cultivating in our yard and I suppose they remind me of her."

"Were you two close?"

"Aye," he replied with a look of reminiscence. "She adored Liam and me. She wanted us to learn everything we could about the world. She always had a book in her hands and she was constantly telling stories or drawing. She used to love when I'd tell her I was going to grow up to be a doctor."

Emma felt her heart ache for the little boy behind the decades of immortality she could see in pale blue eyes. His stare was slightly distant as he looked out over the petals of the blossoming plants, his arms encircling her waist as his chin came to rest on the crown of her head. Emma took in the scent of him with a slight nuzzle and he exhaled carefully, his sigh comforting and calm.

"She passed when I was barely seven," he continued in that quiet tone. "Consumption - or tuberculosis, if you'd rather. Terrible disease that claimed the lives of many back then."

"That must have been difficult," Emma said, glancing up at him. "I'm sorry you lost her."

"Aye, love," he smiled weakly. "Part of life, I suppose. When you're….like me….you get used to it."

"It doesn't make it any easier though," she returned with a squeeze of his hand. "But thank you for telling me. She must have been an amazing woman."

"A very important part of my past life indeed," he nodded. "But maybe now, I could show you another?"

"Hmmm," she smirked, giving him a playful glance. "You're just full of surprises today, aren't you?"

His answer was given in the form of a sweet kiss, a gesture that felt so natural to Emma as she smiled against his lips. He mirrored her reaction as his fingers navigated the contour of her jaw with a deft touch. The shiver brought on by the rainstorm was instantly replaced by the one only his hands were capable of creating.

"Wait here?"

She smirked with acceptance at his request, her eyes fluttering as she watched him walk toward the beat up concrete wall across the room and run his fingers across the smooth surface until he bumped a rough edge. His hands moved slowly as he pulled a loosened brick from the scraped wall, his fingers reaching inside the hollowed out piece of eroded clay to retrieve something small that Emma couldn't see very well. He turned to face her with a suddenly nervous smile before taking a deep breath.

It was easy to see that _this_ walk down memory lane was going to be a little more testing than the first.

"This has been in my possession for a long time," he explained cautiously, walking back toward her with a small wooden box. "It was a gift of sorts I guess - from back in Italy. The woman who turned me left it with the letter she gave to the men who helped me there."

Emma's eyes filled with what she hoped was a subtle curiosity as she watched his fingertips trace the sides of it. It was a beautiful antique made of tediously stained wood with a series of words along the top, engraved deeply in a language she didn't dare attempt. He raised an eyebrow at her observation, his smile curving just a bit as he remembered her speech wasn't quite as worldly as his.

"So," she sighed, returning his smirk. "What does it say?"

" _Post tenebras lux_ ," he said eloquently as his stare followed the curves of the letters. "It's Latin - translates roughly to mean 'after darkness is light'."

Emma didn't have to look at him to know he wasn't reading the words. It was pretty apparent that he'd done that plenty of times over the decades he'd been keeping that box close. She knew it was important to him - probably one of the last possessions he'd held onto from that very tumultuous time in his long life - but she found herself with a great need to know why.

"It's always been a reminder I suppose - a phrase to build this new life around," he continued, flipping the lid to reveal a folded slip of parchment. "I didn't have much of an explanation left with it except this piece of paper."

He held it out to her, watching her carefully as she gave him a reassuring glance. He took a quick breath, nodding to give her the go ahead and she peeled back the corners to where she could decipher the rather intricately penned text.

_**The contents of this box are for you and the future you may build, Killian. Keep it safe and believe that eventually sense will be made of it for you. Find what makes you feel alive and know that while darkness surrounds you, the light shall find you. Have hope and hold tight to it. I promise it will bring you humanity you have never yet known before. May we meet again one day, in this life or the next. -L.S.** _

Emma's head filled with questions as she ran her finger over the initials left at the end. Who was she? Why had she picked him? What was in the box? His hand reached for hers in a movement of stability, something she quickly realized they both needed despite her desire to learn more.

She'd wait for him - for his words, his explanation, and the promise that would likely follow. She'd _always_ wait for him.

"Emma, _I_ …."

He glanced toward the ground, gritting his teeth enough for his jaw to flex in the dull light of the candles glowing around them. He set the box down on the empty pedestal beside them, his expression telling her he'd finish clarifying everything after this - because this…. _this_ was so much more than any piece of the past. His features were outlined by the shadows and despite this sudden shift between them, Emma held his hand in a linked manner with the coldness of his fingers.

"It's just….it's not quite so easy as all of this, love," he answered, pressing his lips together as he placed his hands on top of hers. "Us being together isn't ever going to be simple."

The blue in his gaze wavered as flecks of gray scattered across the irises. His fingers curved slightly around hers as she lifted her touch flush against his jaw. His skin was cold, a temperature that reflected just how unsure he was in their current conversation. He was right - things _weren't_ that easy. The two of them being the counterparts of a normal relationship probably wouldn't ever be possible.

"I….I don't _care_."

"Emma," he said after a brief pause, his gaze centered on her. "I want _this_. If there's anything I'm certain of, it's that I want you, but this…. _this_ is who I am. I didn't chose it and I don't always have control over it, especially where you're concerned. I can't promise you this won't happen again because if it comes down to protecting your life, I will do whatever I have to for you to be safe. The way I care for you….it's always going to be dangerous."

" _Killian_ ," she cut in, stroking his cheek. "Listen-"

"I'm a _vampire_ , love - and I can't change that," he continued. "Even if it means hurting someone or doing all the wrong things for all the right reasons, I will _always_ choose you. I will always save _you_."

"Hey - _listen_ to me," she repeated, her thumb swiping across the scar beneath his eye. "I love you."

The three words they'd only recently exchanged put a quick stop to his speech as he bit his lip. He stared back at her with some emotion she couldn't quite distinguish, his eyes darkening to that deep navy while she waited for him to resume his rambling explanation. When his mouth finally parted again, the soft gasp that escaped him prodded her nerves and she watched as his hands took hold of hers.

"Killian-"

"Say that again."

She paused the long winded rebuttal she didn't _actually_ have planned, her eyes following his movement as he set her hands bracingly against his chest. The soft cotton of his shirt was familiar under her fingertips and she felt her shoulders relax as she examined the hope in his gaze. It wasn't the same incredulous sort she'd seen there before. Her palms stayed firmly in place, one held just over the spot where one could typically feel the steady thump of a heartbeat. The idea entered her mind as she smoothed the fabric gently, the lack of rhythm beneath her hand suddenly making her quite sad.

Just how many decades had it been since he'd heard those words from another person?

The world between them blurred and Emma flexed her fingers against the material, letting her gentle grip pull him closer. His forehead fell against hers as her eyes closed and she tried to control the flurry of emotions spinning in her mind. She knew he needed to hear it - and he _deserved_ to hear it.

"I love you, Killian."

His lips trembled just slightly before lifting into a quick smile, one she could feel more than see. He lifted his hand to her cheek gently as he guided her mouth to his. Emma felt relief spread across her shoulders as he pulled her into a hypnotic kiss, his free hand pressing gently on her back as he pulled her closer. As that feeling of passion collided with this loving side of him she'd only recently glimpsed, Emma let herself melt in his arms with the knowledge that he'd keep her steady.

"And I - you, Emma," he mumbled against her lips, his hand threading through her hair. "More than I can ever explain."

"Then," she smirked, slowly pushing the sleeves of his borrowed sweater down off her shoulders. "Show me."

His smile was tentative and sweet in a quick curve of his lips before he pulled her back into a kiss that instantly meant everything to her. She kept her grip on the fabric covering his chest, the desperate need to hold onto him consuming her as he tugged anxiously on her sweater. Their lips parted enough for him to remove the article and drop it to the ground before her hands followed suit, pulling his shirt over his head to join hers. The feel of his chest hair brushed up against her, teasing the lace still hanging from her shoulders as his fingers worked on undoing the button at the front of her pants. He shoved the denim down quickly and kicked her boots away before she stepped out toward him, leaving her jeans at their feet as he hurried to do the same. Nearly bare and pressed against one another, he lifted her strongly with an adoring grin as he carried her across the even ground near the metal bars she'd once clinged to before.

 _God_ , how she wanted to do so again. She sank back into their scorching kiss with a _need_ for it - one that quickly rose above all others.

He moved around the iron caged space, his steps calculated as he kept her lost in the rhythm of his lips. Her back met the icy feel of the bars with a flinch and his kiss muffled the surprised sound she let out while his hands soothed her chilled skin. His hips gave a soft jerk forward as he rubbed against her in a teasing motion while his fingers deftly tugged on the elastic she'd used to secure the end of her braid. He pulled back slightly, his lips swollen red and his glare a solid dark blue filled with that chaotic desire when she shook her head to loosen her tethered hair back into loose blonde waves that trailed down her shoulders. His stare deepened as the veins around his eyes went dark, pulsing red across the whites of them as pure hunger began to take over part of him. He seemed to war with his emotions for a second, the savage in him fading fractionally as her fingers tugged on his dark scalp. She yanked his mouth back to hers in an effort to reassure him, her teeth biting gently on his bottom lip with a soft pull.

The smile he gave in return was one she'd witnessed many times before - the determined grin of a man who would settle for nothing less than devouring her.

He ripped the threads of remaining cloth from her body before taking the few steps backward to a metal chair in the corner of the cold cell. His shoulders hit the back of the seat hard, the metallic legs scraping the floor as he landed on the chair with her writhing in his lap. Emma let her body brush against his, back and forth with the taunting roll of her hips while his mouth traced the top of her breast. He nipped the flesh gently as she arched her chest further into the pattern of his teeth, a reaction that brought forth his fangs as he shoved down the last bit of clothing keeping them apart.

She observed them tentatively, her fingertips reached forward to touch the two sharp teeth gently while her forehead fell against his. She held him a bit tighter with her arms firmly looped around his neck as she tilted her head enough to beckon him, the plea lost to the simmering silence between them. The piercing feel of his bite hurt only for a brief moment before he breathed her in, pulling life from the vein trailing down her neck. He didn't drink much, only enough to quench his need to know she was real before he thrust inside.

" _Killian_ …."

He growled softly as he moved, his fingers running down her spine while the feel of her rocking back and forth sent his body into a frenzy of firm hips and an attentive mouth. The feel of blood running down her neck was soothed by his careful tongue as Emma gave way to the frantic need he possessed. The hard pulse of his length jolted her over the edge as they moaned into the candlelight room, a dull echo surrounding them as he shoved up once more. His entire body left the chair as he did so before he collapsed back onto it with her weight slumping in his lap. The room was quiet as he held her loosely, their naked skin slick with sweat while Emma let his hands knead her shoulders. He set a light kiss against her wildly undone hair with a sated exhale, another sound that comforted her almost as much as his tender touch.

"Hey," she said lazily, blinking her heavy eyelids slowly as she gazed down at him. "Are you alright?"

"I will be," he assured her with a soft smile. "Are you?"

"Better than okay," she mumbled. "Can we just stay here?"

"Cozy as this is," he started, his voice a near whisper as his fingers brushed the bite marks on her neck. "I think a fire beckons, love. Ready to go home?"

"Mmmm," she hummed with a lazy smile. "Yeah."

He returned her loving grin, following it with a sweet kiss and her lips pressed together as she held back the the words she knew now to be very true - she was _already_ home.

###### 

They hadn't been back at the house long when the rain finally let up, the sound of its persistent tapping on the windows halting as she stirred from her relaxed state. A thick blanket was soft around her as she sunk into the cushions of a leather sofa with his arm protectively tracing the length of her back. She'd been dozing off in his lap, knowing full well that he was watching her as his fingers stroked the tendrils of her long hair he'd released from the braid in their rather heated instance. The soft scratch of an old jazz record tested the air as her eyes opened to meet his. There was something so sweet in his gaze that Emma felt her heart melt just a bit as her mind wandered back to their moment in the crypt and the questions she still had burning a hole in her head.

"Hey," she said casually, nuzzling the material of his shirt. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mmmm," he nodded while twisting the blonde strand lightly. "Anything."

"It's just about the box - the one from your crypt," she started. "Do….do you actually know what's inside of it?"

He shifted slightly, his gaze very attentive as he looked at her. Emma didn't know if she'd ever figure out how he could make her feel like she was his reason for being with that sweet stare, but he continued to do it every time they locked eyes.

"Aye," he confirmed, raising an eyebrow. "I was meaning to show you….well, before."

Even in the muted illumination of the space they'd found themselves in again, it was easy to see the way his cheeks reddened at the mention of their earlier activities. Emma laughed softly to herself as he bent down quick to kiss her before the explanation continued. He stood carefully, giving her a moment to sit up and pull the blanket around her frame. Watching him walk toward the chair where he'd deposited his jacket on their way in, she took a moment to admire him. His hair was a mess per usual and he ran his fingers through it with a tousle before reaching to retrieve the object in question from his pocket. He flipped the lid with a nervous smile to empty its contents, setting the wooden container back on the fireplace mantle and returning to the couch with steady steps.

Her eyes caught a quick glance of the item resting in his palm - a simple silver necklace. Her breath hitched slightly as she shifted to make space for him at her side. As ordinary as the piece of jewelry appeared, Emma knew there had to be quite a story linked to something he'd held onto for decades without knowing why.

"I can't tell you how many times I've looked at this over the years, hoping that its purpose truly _would_ be explained one day," he said with a soft shake of his head. "It brought me nothing but confusion every single time I looked at it until the night I brought you to the hospital."

Emma straightened, tilting her head a bit in analysis. She'd learned it was him who saved her the morning after her slip in the alley when he'd walked into her hospital room all cloaked in mystery and that pristine white coat. The way he had all but studied her then was something she had never been able to shake. It was that look of intrigue and the utmost concern he offered - one that wanted to know more about who she was and why he'd felt so compelled to save her.

"I never understood why such a trinket was so important until I met you, love," he continued softly, lifting the necklace with a soft clink against his ring. "But it makes perfect sense now."

The silver chain balanced carefully between his fingers as it hung suspended between them, a flat circular pendant dangling from the end of it. She glanced at him inquisitively before taking the piece of his past into her hesitant hold. The medallion the necklace seemed to be centered around landed face up in her palm, the sudden sight of the etching on it making her blink rapidly in disbelief.

It was a _swan_ \- one set in a dark carving that has been pressed into the metal with that wax seal sort of style. It was beautiful, but more so, it wasn't possible. How did this immortal, broken man have a necklace that all but pointed to her with its adorning of one _single_ symbol?

"Emma," he breathed, tilting his view to find her eyes. "Say something."

"I _don't_ ….know….what-" she stammered as she met his gaze. "-how…. _how_ ….is this…."

"Good question - or half question, I suppose," he replied with a nervous smirk. "I've yet to figure out just how a piece of jewelry can be so fitting and while I don't have the answer I know we'd both like to have, maybe there's a reason we don't."

"So you're saying it's like-" she paused with an arched eyebrow. "- _fate_ or something?"

"Maybe - I don't know," he shrugged, his voice still cautious. "But I do know I love you. While I know not what led me to you and while I'm scared as hell to want you….scared I could hurt you….here I am, wanting you anyway."

He'd never looked as honest as he did in that moment, his gaze searching her still very confused expression. There wasn't a way to make sense of the how in this situation, but as she watched him waiver on a shaky edge of confidence, she decided she cared more about the outcome rather than the method.

Maybe the necklace _was_ meant to bring them together, but even if it wasn't, they'd found each other anyway.

"Is it….I _mean_ , I-"

Her voice left her as she glanced down at the silver in her hand. He caught on quickly, knowing what question her words couldn't seem to form as he looked at her with a love that seemed to come from a place within his soul - one he was braving for her.

"This….it's….yours," he said with a questioning and very hopeful stare as he took the necklace to undo the clasp. "It's….I think it was always supposed to find its way to you. If you want it, that is."

"I do," she answered with a small smile. "As long as I get _you_ as well."

"I suppose that's a bit of greed I can tolerate," he smirked, pulling the chain around her neck as his lips kissed her jaw. "I'm _yours_ , Emma. For as long as you'll have me."

Her fingers landed carefully on the metal now safely descending down her neckline as he ran a thumb over her cheek, bringing her eyes back to him and the blue of his matching stare. Letting her entire life hinge on the moment, she felt the idea of fate fall at her feet in favor of another thought - one that _quickly_ started to center around forever.


	9. Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that it's taken so long to update this! Hopefully the extra long chapter will make up for it. This is supposed to be kind of a mini-fic and has already gone on for much longer than I anticipated (ahem, three shot) so there's one more chapter coming after this before I move on to some other stories! Enjoy and as always, all rights/characters belong to OUAT.

"I must say that when you said you wanted to warm up," he teased, placing a gentle kiss on the side of her head. "This isn't _exactly_ what I had in mind."

Emma couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her, the sound drawing a weak ripple across the water as the bubbles surrounding them shifted. His chest was solid behind her and his arms kept her close as she relaxed into him. She wiggled slightly, causing his knees to bend and widen the space he'd left for her between his legs just a bit more. He let out a deep groan when she leaned back again, letting the small of her back rub against his naked torso.

"Was that-" she taunted, tilting her head to smile back at him. "-a complaint?"

"Not in the slightest, love," he replied as the scruff on his jaw grazed her shoulder. "More of a _warning_."

He nipped lightly at her ear, causing a tiny splash in the water immersing them and Emma's shoulders flinched with what could almost be called a giggle. A teasing growl escaped his lips as he pressed them to her cheek and the sigh she responded with was nothing short of total contentment. Killian's hands moved carefully, swiping the soap off her shoulders as he left a kiss against her hair. She was glad she opted to pull the wavy blonde strands up and out of the way before they'd sunk into the water, his warm breath on her neck causing a slight shiver. His touch moved into a firm, kneading pattern and Emma hummed in relaxation as she let him work the soreness out of her muscles with his deft fingers.

"Quite tense, Swan," he teased, kissing her neck sweetly. "You really should allow yourself more time to unwind, love. Happy to make that the 'doctor's orders' if it might convince you more easily."

"Ah, _unwinding_ ," she laughed, resuming their previous position of her back resting against his chest. "Is not what we're doing?"

"We're taking a _bubble_ bath, Swan," he replied as he wrapped his wet arms around her. "Whether or not it's relaxing is perhaps a matter of personal preference."

"Is that your overly elegant way of telling me that vampires don't like bathtubs?"

Killian tickled her ribs with taunting fingertips and her jumpy reaction caused water to spill over the side. He eyed the slight mess before chuckling in defeat, his chest vibrating against her shoulder blades as he located her hand beneath the bubbles. He lifted his palm out of the water and hers followed instinctively, their combined touch explorative as their fingers linked. Killian took a silent second to examine their hands pressed so fittingly together, a task she'd seen him participate in quite often. She could feel his breath even out as he studied her thumb, stroking it lightly with the pad of his own.

She knew he needed these quiet moments. He needed to feel _human_ \- and allowing him that was the least she could do.

"I must say they aren't typically my favorite," he confessed quietly in her ear. "But I don't mind quite so much with you here."

"Well that's good to hear-" she told him, turning to loop her arms around his neck. "-because _this_ is an amazing tub."

His eyes lingered on her lips as she moved closer, resting her palm against his cheek. The kiss they sank into seemed so much deeper than the tub and Emma felt his smile curve against her lips. The comfort she found in his happy reaction was unexplainable, but it relaxed her even more than the warm water they were both so cozily soaking in.

"I suppose I'll learn to appreciate it then," he grinned, swiping away the bubbles on her cheek. "Even if it means I have to endure the anomalous witchcraft that is this 'french vanilla' soap scent."

"Mmmm," she flirted, rolling her eyes a bit. "I do _love_ when you speak so nineteenth century."

" _Well_ ," he shrugged with that typical smirk. "What's not to love?"

"Very true," Emma sighed, her teasing expression earning a quick second kiss. "Hard to resist such humility from the tall, dark, and handsome Dr. Jones."

"Actually-" he quipped, biting gently at her lower lip. "-I'm not _that_ tall."

Her laugh seemed to be just the response he was looking for and Emma watched his mouth evolve into an achingly genuine smile, the white flash of his teeth making her skin tingle as it always had. She focused on them for a moment, wondering what it must be like to have fangs while still possessing the sort of self control he had. Of course, he'd had decades to perfect his willpower, but she's still seen him in the throes of walking that very thin line between desire and disaster.

"You sure have a keen sense of curiosity, don't you, love?"

"Hmmm?"

"Just commenting on your apparent oral fixation," he clarified, lifting the pad of her finger to his mouth and biting it lightly. "You….seem to analyze me rather often - not that I mind your studious staring."

"Hey - I don't _stare_ ," she countered with an unconvincing smile. "I guess I just….want to know more about you. I want to understand."

The way his eyes filled with such comfortable affection was encouraging and Emma closed her eyes as he left a slow trail of kisses down her neck to her shoulder. His fingertips danced down her spine in a suggestive pattern that made her skin vibrate and she had to wonder how his hands were capable of making her feel so secure.

"Your determined desire to comprehend is one of the many things I love about you, Emma Swan."

That impossible phrase still made her heart pound and she took a moment to remember the handful of times those words had passed between them over the course of the last few days. The endearing statement had been yelled, gasped, pleaded, and finally accepted - but they still hadn't rehashed the first time they'd both admitted their real feelings in the middle of that turbulent fight. She could still remember the haunted expression he'd worn as the bliss they'd been trying to build nearly collapsed at the hands of his forced and _very_ incorrect argument.

_You have to go._

_You can't be here anymore._

_I have to do the right thing for you._

It had been devastating to listen to the pain in his tone as he'd made those statements - the ones Emma was sure he'd chosen to convince himself of under some misguided fear. She hadn't dared approach the unaddressed side of that conversation since, opting to let herself appreciate their reconciled solace for a day or so instead. She was honestly surprised it had taken this long for that prodding logic to rear its inconvenient head and she bit her lip as she debated whether it was worth paying mind to it.

"You seem vexed," he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her eyes. "What's on your mind, love?"

"You mean you don't _already_ know?"

"I'm sure I could at the very least _attempt_ to find out," he replied, smiling at her subtle teasing. "But I think this is one of those things I'd prefer to be done the old fashioned way - pardon the ironic phrasing."

Emma laughed, watching his eye color lighten just a bit. She'd seen so many versions of blue in his attentive gaze over the short time they'd known one another and she wondered for a moment just how many shades still remained undiscovered. There were seemingly endless layers to this immortal man and details she knew she'd never learn without asking - so perhaps _asking_ was what she needed to continue to do.

"I just….the other night, when you told me about that man-" she started, her tone hesitant as her hands traced nonsense in the dark hair on his chest. "-who you…. _bit_. It's just I - _well_ , I saw the news and…."

"You want to know what happened to him."

Her wavering explanation had hung in the steam swirled air between them, waiting desperately for him to take over until he finally did. Emma nodded with visible relief as he tilted his head to the side, placing his palms on the tops of her thighs under the water and pulling her carefully into his lap. Her knees sat on opposite sides of his legs, the position oddly intimate as he let his soft fingertips explore her back. Emma let her own hands run lazily through his damp hair as he sighed, smiling weakly at her subtle encouragement.

She knew this conversation was one of uncharted waters - even if they _were_ currently covered in the soapy, wet serenity of his cast iron clawfoot bathtub.

"He's not dead, love."

The words were soothing to hear, even if the reporter on the television screen had previously confirmed them already. There was something comforting about allowing Killian to tell her that. She hated the terminology, but as she watched uncertainty shift in his deep blue stare, Emma thought briefly of the idea that perhaps it takes a certain sort of monster to rid the world of something far worse. She didn't know much about this Walsh guy let alone what evil he or perhaps even others might be capable of, but she felt like she knew some of the deepest parts of the man looking back at her - and against all odds, there was one thing she was truly sure of.

If Killian Jones was technically some sort of monster, she didn't care because he was _her_ monster - and she undoubtedly loved every part of him.

"He's still alive-" he rephrased, pausing to sigh cautiously. "-but hopefully gone as well."

"Gone?"

"Aye, it was after you fell asleep that night….I slipped out and went back to where I'd left him," he continued, running his hand over the thick stubble on his jaw. "It was…. _well_ , a little worse than I thought….but he was still breathing."

"You saved him then?"

"If you'd dare call it that, love," he replied, shame filling his expression. "I'm the reason he needed saving after all."

Emma pursed her lips at his remark and she watched his shoulders stiffen just the tiniest bit. The toll such a rash decision was taking on him was still very evident and while remorse was etched into his strained expression, regret was something she knew must be a bit more complicated in these particular circumstances. Reaching up to rest her hand on his cheek, Emma used a careful touch to bring his vision back to hers while his more recent words replayed in her head.

_I will always choose you. I will always save you._

_God_ , she loved him - and in the middle of their fragile conversation, she had to hope that was one thought he might be able to read.

"I gave him enough blood to keep him stable before I brought him to the hospital," he told her with a steady gaze. "I figured an animal bite would be an accepted cover story given his state. It's what the newspapers said….when I was in Italy and….I…. _that_ woman-"

Emma watched his words waver as he bit his lip, obviously warring with a dangerous memory. It took her focused mind a moment to fill in the missing words, but as he went a little more pale and his stare shifted into something haunted, she realized what he was referring to. Her hand caressed his cheek gently while she attempted to wish away the thought crossing his weary mind.

"I got him settled in a room at the end of the last hallway and asked one of the guards to cuff him to the bedside before I healed him any further," he narrated. "I wasn't sure what he remembered and I didn't think it wise to take any chances. So, I fed him just enough to bring him back to consciousness before I….did more investigating."

"Investigating? Did you question him?"

"Not exactly," he answered, furrowing his eyebrows. "It's just….it's this vampire thing. I was able to sort of _alter_ his recollection a bit."

"Wait, did you-" Emma paused, tilting her head in confusion. "- _brainwash_ him or something?"

"I'd say it's more like I hypnotized him," he clarified, his response calculated and cautious. "It's called compulsion - kind of like mind control. I can find out what happened and convince him otherwise by adjusting the mind's basic recollection."

"But how's that possible?"

"It takes a lot of practice," he said, tilting his head from side to side. "Steady eye contact and specific instruction for the most part. It's a way to open the mind on a deeper level - to make the person hear and believe nothing but what you're telling them. It feels natural to them, like it's simply thinking and remembering."

"Oh," she replied, her mind scattered as she tried to process his answers. "I guess I never thought….I mean, have you ever-"

" _No_ , love - I've never compelled you," he assured her, repeating the promise he'd made her a while ago. "Your thoughts and memories are yours. I'd never take away your free will, Emma. In fact, compelling others is not something I do often because it's quite manipulative, but in a case like _this_ ….well, I-"

"I know," she nodded as she cut off his unnecessary justification with a subtle smile. "Anything to keep me safe."

He nodded weakly, forcing a smile as she brushed his damp hair off his forehead. The simple contact seemed to relax him and Emma felt her heart swell with the knowledge that her gentle touch was able to comfort him. Part of her wondered if he was reading her thoughts during conversations like this, but it felt more likely that he simply knew how to predict her. When it came to Killian Jones, she was a strangely willing open book.

"Once he came to, I was able to get him to focus enough to change his memory," he carried on, swallowing hard. "Kind of….helped him forget a few things."

"What did you say?"

"Basically what the news reported," he explained. "I told him he had been attacked by an animal, he'd been stitched up, and that he needed to leave Storybrooke as soon as he was discharged."

"Do you think it worked?"

"He checked out of the hospital that night and I saw to it that he crossed the town line," Killian assured her. "I made sure he didn't know who you were either so he's got no reason to return. Sadly, I believe that means you'll have to forfeit the price that was on his head."

"I'm not worried about that," she laughed, realizing just how little she'd thought about her lost paycheck. "There will be other idiots to incarcerate, Killian."

"Or you could just stay _here_ with me-" he smirked as he leaned in for a slow kiss. "-and this bathtub you've mentioned you're rather fond of."

"I don't know if I _dare_ ," she teased. "Now that I know you've got some overly persuasive skills, who _knows_ what you'd be able to talk me into."

"I can assure you that I don't need compulsion to entice you to stay," he quipped as he pinched playfully at her sides again. "Though _you_ may need to learn that skill if you want me to remain in this water for much longer. It's getting a tad frosty, love."

"Come on then," she grinned, sliding back off his lap. "I'd hate for you to get any more wrinkly than you already are, old _man_."

"Hey, I said it's a _little_ cold," he responded as he pulled her back into his space. "Plus, old and wise are quite different traits, love."

"Oh, really?"

"Aye, Swan," he said, nuzzling her nose as he shifted beneath her. "I think we _both_ know I'm quite….knowledgeable."

Emma felt her spine tingle as his palm pressed flat against her lower back, her body starting to burn as he threaded his fingers through her loosely pinned up hair. His mouth found hers with a fiery effort, his lips and gently nipping teeth tempting her submissive response instantly. Hearing the water ripple around them, Emma encircled her arms around his neck as his fingertips traced her back in a pattern that complimented the convincing kiss. The competitive side of her wanted to pull away, but as his hips rutted up lightly into hers and her breath hitched, it was nearly impossible to deny that this man knew _exactly_ what he was doing. She was still in a haze when he shoved her carefully off his lap, the water sloshing over the tub's edges as he stood up with a smirk.

"What the hell-" she grinned, laughing when he flipped suds her direction. "-are you doing?"

"Just going to grab some champagne, love," he quipped, stepping out onto the somewhat already wet rug. "If you're going to hold me hostage in that tub, I've got the feeling we're going to need it."

She watched the water roll down his body, trails of soapy bubbles sticking to his wet skin. She couldn't help but admire the way his damp hair stuck up in several directions, flipping out at his ears while his cheeks flushed and his eyes filled with that specific deviance only he could exude. With a slight shiver, he swiped a few bubbles off his bicep and torso, letting the moisture linger on the rest of his flesh in a tempting manner. The devilish grin he threw her before sauntering toward the doorway in his drenched, sudsy, _naked_ glory told her he knew just how to make her mind wander.

"You're dripping-" she told him, biting her lip as she leaned over the tub. "-and _very_ indecent, Dr. Jones."

"Aye, but you know, love," he countered, foregoing the towel hanging on the wall. "Something tells me you prefer me this way."

Emma felt her jaw drop fractionally as he turned, humming softly and swaying his bare hips as he left the bathroom. She let her eyes hang on the long lines of his shoulder blades and the sculpted view of his back, noticing the way his muscular physique looked even better when wet. It wasn't really a secret that she was a fan of _every_ single part of him.

 _Apparently even the soapy ones_ , she mused with a quiet laugh.

###### 

"You're adorable when you pout, love."

Emma glared playfully at him over her shoulder, her fingers still skimming the bookshelf as took a second to admire him in such a relaxed state. She'd been navigating the titles of leatherbound texts lining the walls of his library for an hour or so while he propped his feet up to read the newspaper - an activity that she'd assured him fit well with his archaic persona. He'd given her his typical handsomely sly smirk and she'd nearly dropped the copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ she was examining, a reaction that would have truly been a shame since it _was_ a first edition.

"I am _not_ pouting," she countered, trying to keep a straight face. "I'm _snooping_. Big difference."

"Well, that's _one_ way to injure a man's ego," he teased as he set the sports section down on his lap. "Here I was thinking you were going to be a bit sad about us both having separate obligations to attend to today."

The reminder was unpleasant and Emma tried not to scowl as she once again acknowledged the fact that he'd be heading back to work in a few hours. She hadn't left his house yet, opting to spend nearly every second at his side or lost in his navy blue and oh so attentive stare. It was a quickly learned state of normal and one she certainly didn't want to take for granted.

"I mean, you're about to trade all of _this_ -" he smirked, gesturing to their surroundings. "-for some citizen small talk and mediocre libations."

"I'm not sure if you're trying to remind me I need to leave soon or if you're just rubbing it in," she scowled with a sigh. "But they _both_ kinda suck."

"Perhaps I'm just a bit sullen that I won't get to accompany you," he replied as he rose and wandered toward her. "Founder's Day is quite the tradition, Swan, and I'd be a hell of a date."

She sighed softly, rolling her eyes at him as his hands found her waist. She'd learned of this little ritual celebration a few months earlier and while the rest of the town had been buzzing with preparations, she'd been far too preoccupied with the supernatural circumstances surrounding her daily life to pay too much attention.

"Can't you just be a normal boyfriend who encourages me to enjoy a normal town celebration in a…. _somewhat_ normal way?"

"I'd rather ploy you with promiscuous promises and convince you to stay here and wait for my return," he grinned as she swayed in his embrace. "But I'm confident you'll survive civilization without me for a few hours."

"I suppose I'll have to since there _are_ lives that need saving," she sighed, letting his lips take her mind off the impending day. "Have you been before though?"

"Aye, a few times," he nodded, peering back over his shoulder. "In _fact_ …."

He turned to scan the wooden surface holding the endless array of novels, his strong hand sweeping lightly along the book spines until he reached the end. He looked handsomely casual in the low light of the room - all bare feet and faded jeans paired with that crisp white t-shirt he usually wore under his surgery scrubs. Emma observed the way he moved, her own eyes analyzing the focus of his intense stare and the way his tongue swiped at the corners of his mouth as he studied items before him. He'd moved past the literature to where a metal box sat, pushed to the back of the shelf and partially hidden. He flipped the lid and the hinges squeaked softly as she watched him retrieve what looked like an old photograph.

"A bit of early nostalgia," he said, glancing down at the wrinkled picture before he turned it to her line of vision. "Plus, a little proof of what a snappy dresser I've always been."

Emma had to laugh in astonishment as she took the flimsy piece of his past between her fingertips. The photograph was faded and bent slightly, but it didn't take her long to discern who the people were. There was a woman, slender and simple with long dark hair set in lush curls that hung down her shoulders. She was beautiful with her warm smile and pale lace adorned dress. Emma let her gaze travel to the other two subjects in the picture, her finger following the path of her vision as she pressed down lightly. Tears filled her eyes as her smile curved upward, her mouth parting in some sense of disbelief.

It was _him_ \- well, a _much_ younger version of him. He couldn't have been more than five or six at the time, but she knew the familiar little boy captured in the film. She studied the details carefully, feeling his eyes on her as she did so. He had that same wild dark hair, same sweet smile, and same bright eyes - a pair that would have shown up a bold blue if the picture would have had the privilege of printing in color. He wore a crisp buttoned shirt and pressed shorts, complete with suspenders and black shoes. The outfit complimented that of the lad next to him - a boy roughly four or five years older that had to be Liam. He was wearing a tweed cap over his curly hairy, one that _definitely_ looked too big for his little brother.

They looked so happy and complete, even though he'd mentioned that his young life hadn't exactly been that way. Her heart sank a little as she realized this picture had probably been taken not long before his mother passed away. She hoped he hadn't seen the emotion rolling slowly down her cheek, but the impact of such a shared memory hit her harder than she imagined it could.

It was proof that even as supernatural as he'd become, he _was_ real. He'd been human once. To her, he was all _but_ human now.

"Killian, this is…."

"My mother and Liam-" he said softly, answering the question she couldn't seem to ask. "-and that's me. Founder's Day back in 1903 if I recall correctly. It was just after we'd moved into the new house. _This_ house."

"It's _so_ ….it's a beautiful picture," she smiled, looking up to meet his eyes. "I can't believe you still have it after all these years."

"There are a few things I've managed to hold onto," he replied, smirking when her hand fell subconsciously to the necklace she was wearing. "But you can't blame me for keeping it close - I did look rather _smashing_ after all."

"Yeah, _yeah_ \- you were adorable," she agreed, feigning annoyance. "Almost as cute as you are now."

"Mmmm," he growled with a gentle kiss. " _Almost_."

"So the fact that you looked handsome in suspenders a zillion years ago is supposed to convince me that enduring society for some annual city celebration won't be _that_ bad?"

"Was my distraction truly so transparent, love?"

"Maybe I'm just skilled at reading you," she retorted, nuzzling his nose. "But _fine_ \- I'll go. Just don't try to require that I actually enjoy it."

"Oh, come _on_ ," he laughed, tucking a piece of wavy hair behind her ear as he locked his eyes onto hers. "The world seems full of good men, love - _even_ if there are monsters in it."

"Ugh," she groaned, realizing where he's swiped that line from. "Whatever you say, _Dracula_."

###### 

Emma brushed her hands down the fabric of her dress as she walked, the dark material feeling lush and pleasantly smooth under her fingertips. She moved carefully, trying her best to balance on the black heels she'd thought would be a good idea for some reason. She was instantly regretting it as she noticed the uphill walkway to the mayoral mansion's lavish backyard.

She'd almost opted to bail on the annual Founder's Day party, knowing full well that the scene might be slightly awkward for a Storybrooke transplant and recognizing the fact that exploring the vast rooms of Killian's home while he was finishing up at the hospital was a far more intriguing idea. Her cheeks had reddened at the thought of pulling on one of his button downs and wandering the library or snuggling up against the couch cushions until he returned to her with what would be very anxious eyes. He _had_ encouraged her to go though and alongside that prodding, she was also attending to appease the only other acquaintance she had in their sleepy little town - her _very_ sociable neighbor and the orchestrator of the whole event, Ruby Lucas.

They'd met when Emma rented out the house just adjacent to the one owned by the city's charismatic event planner. She was nice enough and lacked the unnecessary suspicion that others seemed to exude at times regarding a mysterious blonde from out of town - or 'Little Miss I'm-On-A-Mission' as Ruby had taken to calling her. Over the time Emma had taken up residence on their shared street in the suburbs, they'd become some sort of friends - so much so that Ruby had insisted she stop by the summer celebration held at the Mills elaborate residence. Emma had bit her tongue at the offer, her mind reeling with excuses she couldn't seem to use. She'd done a great job of laying low and maintaining a quiet profile while tracking down her targets, but the look of hope in the dark haired girl's eyes caused her to wonder if making a few alliances within city limits might be amiable.

After all, she'd struck up _quite_ the connection with a local emergency room doctor who seemed to be well versed in the social relations of a small town. Perhaps it couldn't hurt to branch out and blend in a bit - at least while said doctor was preoccupied.

Her acquiesce to attending had nearly been fractured when she'd discovered that this particular occasion required formal attire. Storybrooke wasn't home to many shops that could provide her with any last minute elegant clothing and her own wardrobe was made up of more leather jackets than lace gowns. She had been rummaging around in her closet for what felt like hours when she'd heard the chime of her doorbell. Shortly after sharing some confusing stares and her signature with the postal worker, she'd located the answer to her little debacle inside a lined box containing a beautiful black chiffon dress. She'd let out a quiet gasp at the sight of the material, running her fingers over it as she opened the card set on top.

_Just in case you're trying to use the 'nothing to wear' excuse for the Founder's Party. I'm assuming you'll cut quite the figure in this, love. I'll be over after work to peel you out of it should you need me to. See you soon, Swan._

_Love, Killian_

He always knew just what to say to make her melt and blush simultaneously - it was only fitting that he knew just what to _write_ as well.

She'd been a little unsure about the gown at first, the soft material thin between her fingers as she summoned the bravery to put it on. It took a moment to navigate the silky garment, but as she moved to stand in front of the mirror, Emma wondered just how he'd known such a dress would fit perfectly. It was deep blue - a shade that matched the predatory hue of his eyes and the darkness they carried when he was contemplating the dozens of ways he could devour her. It trailed to the ground with a well hidden slit on one side that still allowed the fabric to flow freely. The straps were thick and doubled with one meant to hang off each shoulder. The front was cut low but properly, plunging just enough that she wondered if she was going to be able to pull the whole look off.

Well, she was sure as hell going to try.

Emma reached the top of the path much quicker than expected and she exhaled quietly, thanking her lucky stars that she'd retained some ability when it came to traveling in such challenging shoes even though she rarely did it anymore. She looked out over the manicured lawn, taking in the details of the party as she pondered just where she might find Ruby. The yard was immensely spacious, the recently cut grass stretching all the way back to the edge of a rather large pond. Several large willow trees growing off to the sides provided a makeshift canopy where twinkle lights had been strung, creating a soft glow around the entire space. The sound of violins filled the air, beckoning guests toward the silk tablecloths and expertly crafted flower arrangements. It was a picturesque scene - and one that nearly made her want to bolt.

"Emma! You're here!"

The voice called to her from across the yard, grabbing her attention as she was pondering the best possible escape route. She turned to face the shouted greeting and quickly landed on the sight of her outgoing friend, clad in a long red gown and briskly making her way across the decorated space while yelling something about floral display charts to the workers behind her.

"I'm _so_ glad you made it," Ruby said with a smile, hugging her tightly while looking back toward the house. "You look amazing! Where did you get your….oh, _god_ \- hold on. I just need to-"

"Go ahead," Emma laughed, nodding back toward the party. "I'll get a drink and catch up with you in a bit."

" _Ugh_ \- thanks, Em," she sighed as she rolled her eyes. "Champagne and wine at the bar. I'll find you once I'm done reminding the servers that empty glasses are extremely _tacky_."

Emma smirked to herself as she watched Ruby hustle back down toward the tables with a voice that could command an army. She listened to the echo of the main street clock tower, the dull chime sounding six times. She took a deep breath as the material of her dress moved along the concrete walkway, heading toward the festivities in pursuit of some liquid courage.

As she glided across the grass, Emma found herself contemplating the cause for a gathering like this. She knew Founder's Day was a prominent local event every year and Ruby's tellings of past celebrations stretched well beyond either of their lifetimes, but she had to wonder about the decades that had gone by.

Exactly how many of these parties _had_ Killian been around for?

She tried to envision him at this type of yearly soirée as she approached the bar, ordering a tall glass of whatever bottle of red wine was easiest for the bartender to reach for. Letting her fingers curl around the stem of her drink, she glanced back toward the growing population of the party with a simple desire.

She wished he was there - and for a second, she _almost_ believed she'd been granted that want. The voice interrupting her hopeful moment, however, didn't sound at all like the one belonging to the man who'd kissed her goodbye with the whispered promise of 'later' only a few hours earlier.

"Too bad you appear to prefer the dark rather than the light. Last year was very favorable for Sauvignon blanc and the labels they've sprung for here are quite impressive."

A bit startled, Emma spun around quickly to find out who was commenting on her choice of alcohol only to spill a bit of it carefully enough to miss the fabric of her dark dress. She cursed quietly as she turned toward the bartender helplessly, but not before she lifted her eyes to meet the curious ones of the man who now looked quite apologetic. She didn't recognize his wild blonde hair or bright blue eyes, but something about him seemed sweet rather than sinister.

"Sorry for that," he said with a humble half smile, offering a napkin before she could find one. "I suppose it doesn't matter what color the wine is if it's on the ground instead of in the glass."

"Oh - _no_ , it's fine," she replied, shaking her head. "It will teach me to be more careful I guess - or at the very least, discourage me from ordering red while in formalwear."

"A lesson we all learn one way or another perhaps," he laughed as he tilted his glass her direction. "I don't know that we've met. I'm Victor Whale - Ruby's date. You two know each other I believe?"

"Yeah, we do," Emma nodded, trying to recall whether they'd been previously introduced or not. "I'm-"

"Emma Swan," he finished for her with a grin. "She's mentioned you before - although I'm usually playing lightning catch up with that woman after a long night at the hospital so I'm glad I managed to remember your name."

The hospital - now _that_ was a place she'd recently come well acquainted with. Her memory started to spin as she thought back through the times Killian had mentioned his job or the people who worked alongside him. Her eyes widened as she remembered the remark he'd once made mid scandalous breakfast - a recollection that _was_ quite impressive since she had been so temptingly distracted in that instance.

"You work in the lab there, right?"

"I do - phlebotomy on the first floor," he nodded, lifting an eyebrow. "Is it fair to say there's only a few people you know who could confirm that fact?"

 _Oh shit,_ Emma thought as she took a quick swallow from her glass. He totally knew.

" _Umm_ , well," she stammered. "I guess I-"

"It's okay, Emma," he assured her, smiling kindly. "Your secret is safe with me. I know he's…. _different_ , but….Killian's a good man. He's not at all what you'd expect when you hear…. _that_ word."

"Yeah," she sighed, thinking quietly of the vampire who'd shattered the stereotype. "I know."

"Kind of a pleasant surprise I guess," he smiled. "He saved you, right? In the alley?"

"He did," Emma answered, biting her lip. "He's….got a way with that I guess. Must be the doctor thing."

"He's a skilled physician - that's for sure. I've known him and about his condition for a long time," Victor told her, deepening his stare. "So I suppose the only caution I'd offer you is the same one I gave him."

"Oh," Emma replied, her voice shaky. "Which is?"

"Merely to be aware that the man in question-" a smooth voice interrupted. "-looks _devilishly_ handsome in a tuxedo."

Surprise filled her curious gaze at the sound of that rough accent and Emma couldn't really help the grin that formed on her lips as she turned to glance over her shoulder. Of _course_ he'd show up - and of course he'd look _completely_ beyond the definition of dashing doctor turned potential date.

"Killian," Victor greeted, holding out a hand to shake. "Great to see you, mate. I didn't think you'd make it with all the surgeries they've had stacked at the hospital today."

He looked almost dangerous as he moved toward them with that near swagger, dressed to the nines in a flawless dark wool suit complete with the pressed white shirt beneath. His bow tie was expertly tied but the tiniest bit crooked and Emma pressed her lips together, wondering if such a small detail was an accident or a subtle act of rebellion. His shoes were pitch black with a muted sheen that made her think they might be new and the idea settled on her that perhaps he'd initially planned on attending this outing before his hospital schedule prevented it - or perhaps he'd always intended on showing up regardless. _Crafty bastard,_ she thought silently as she bit her lip.

"Ah, _well_ ," he finally responded, adjusting his cuffs as he approached. "I suppose sometimes things just have a way of working out."

Emma felt her lips part as Killian offered a quick wink before grasping the other man's extended palm. They engaged in a brief handshake, Killian clapping Victor's shoulder as they exchanged a few work related words. She watched quietly, taking notice once again of just how socially skilled he was when it came to friendly conversation. She wondered how he was able to shift what was nearly a very awkward moment into something so suave and simple.

 _Years of practice_ , she mused with a slight grin as Ruby yelled for her date from a few paces away.

"Well, it appears as if I'm needed," Victor grumbled, offering them a knowing smile. "So I'll leave you both to it. Pleasure meeting you, Emma."

"Oh - yeah," she responded, a bit shaken. "You too."

"Always great to see you, Whale," Killian nodded, smirking as she man walked across the grass before turning back to face her. "But _you_ , Emma Swan…."

"Hmmm," she played along as she absorbed his presence. "Me?"

"Yes, _you_ ," he grinned salaciously, leaning a little closer. "I have crossed oceans of time to find you."

"Oh _, wow_ ," Emma laughed as she realized where his cheesy line had come from. "I'm earning quotes from the movie now, huh?"

"Let's just say that the options on the television in the doctor's lounge-" he quipped with every ounce of charm he possessed. "-happen to be _very_ limited."

Emma was suddenly glad she'd opted to keep her hair down, letting it fall over her shoulders in loose waves. It was the only barrier between his warm breath and her neck as he circled her, resting his touch on her hip as he leaned toward the bar to order something on the rocks. The slow caress of his fingertips on her side made it a little difficult to focus on what he was saying to the bartender.

Her eyes dropped down to where his hand held her waist, noticing the way his action seemed to protect yet appreciate at the same time. The feel of his insistence wasn't overpowering the way it had been with other men who'd wandered in and out of her life. Killian's touch was so extraordinarily different. It was like she'd been freezing for years and he was the burning flame, unexpected but determined to make her melt.

" _So_ , darling," he said softly, dissolving her distracted thought as his palm pressed against her lower back while he stood at her side. "Having fun yet?"

"I suppose it's not so bad," she answered, turning to face him. "Though I didn't know you'd be joining me."

"What can I say? I get a distressed call from a fair maiden and I'm on the spot."

"I'm _not_ in distress-" Emma told him, cocking her head to the side. "-and I don't remember calling you, Dr. Jones."

"Perhaps you didn't _have_ to," he retorted with a raised eyebrow. "At least, not by way of your cell phone."

Realization set in as she picked up what he was referring to and her pulse quickened as she pondered that sixth sense he had in regard to her well being. It was surprising that her uneasiness had caught his attention, especially because she'd thought she'd been hiding it rather well. He gave her a careful smirk, one that seemed to wonder if she was happy he'd shown up. There was something freeing about this wordless manner they were able to use to communicate on a level she still didn't fully understand. There was always such clear understanding in the way he looked at her whether it was a fearful gaze wanting to make sure she was alright or a heated stare cloaked in deep desire.

"Well then, for what it's worth - _thank_ you for 'saving' me," she offered, pressing her teeth into her lower lip. "Are you just stopping by to pay your social respects and then going back to healing the hurt?"

"Actually no," he confessed, watching the motion of her mouth very carefully. "I was able to shift some things around and found another resident to cover for me. I'm afraid you're going to be stuck with me all night, Swan."

"Hmmm," she flirted. "Is that a promise?"

"We both know I tend to prefer those when it comes to you, love."

The reply made her skin tingle, her grin halted briefly when she noticed how they'd moved into one another's space almost too intimately. The party was abuzz with classical music and throes of people far too engrossed in conversation for anyone to pay mind to the predatory game they'd begun to play, but they had never really discussed the public nature of their relationship. He quickly paid mind to that fact as well and pulled back fractionally, the heat still simmering between them. The look in his bright blue eyes seemed slightly sad and she stowed the idea of them having that discussion later.

In the meantime, there was nothing wrong with them enjoying one another's casual company as he guided her through the timeless traditions of their town. The tempo of the various instruments a short distance away made his mouth curve upward suspiciously as he held out a steady hand, taking her attention off the mass movement of the party's population toward the open space near the twinkling lights.

"Well," he challenged, his gaze full of fire and that predictable affection. "It would be rude not to dance."

Ah, so _that's_ what this was. Emma tried to squander the panic filling her body at the mention of such a thing and he lifted an eyebrow in question.

"I'm guessing it's tradition?"

"It is," he nodded, his eyes refusing to waver. "If you'd like to, of course."

"Are you saying that you know how to do-" she inquired, as he intertwined her nervous fingers with his before walking in the appropriate direction. "-whatever _this_ ….is?"

"It's called a waltz," he explained as he twirled her halfway before lifting her hands to proper position with expert concentration. "There's only one rule."

"Oh?"

"Aye," he nodded, squeezing her waist teasingly as his spreading smile offered a quick flash of his teeth. "Pick a partner who knows what he's doing."

The world around them slowed as it often did, shifting to a surreal blur as his sweet stare aligned with hers. He seemed _so_ human in these moments - ones where he held a soft, simply happy expression that made her feel more than just loved.

She felt safe and certain. She felt protected and passionately possessed. She felt wanted in an unconditional way that still didn't seem real, but it _was_ \- just as _he_ was.

"I've yet to mention that you look stunning, Swan," he complimented as he stepped forward, leading her in an unknown pattern. "If it isn't obvious."

"Well, I've yet to thank you-" she smiled, her breath short and stuttering. "-for the dress. You didn't have to bribe me, you know."

"Aye, but I wanted to," he nodded. "It's not just the dress though, love. _You_ are a vision."

The sincerity behind such a simple statement was startling. Emma was sure she'd never known someone who could make her feel as beautiful as he did. It wasn't just his words - it was that look of pure adoration he gave to only her. It was that easy, uncomplicated look that reminded her of the only thing she really needed to know.

He _loved_ her - and he was happy to be doing so.

Killian's grin widened as he spun her in a slow circle, his arm extending out before he pulled her close again. She studied his guiding grip and took the steps necessary to continue their circular pattern, only looking up once their almost predictable rhythm resumed. He chuckled softly, undoubtedly amused by her serious expression as his feet lead her the right direction.

"Watch the mocking," she whispered. "I think I'm actually getting the hang of this."

"Not mocking you, Swan," he replied with a raised eyebrow. "Just admiring the fact that you appear to be a natural."

She had to roll her eyes at his praise, allowing him to hum softly when her hand braced his shoulder with a taunting pinch. He wiggled slightly before tightening his hold on her waist, his eyes telling her to behave while the path of his tongue across his lip begged her not to. She nearly stumbled over her newly skilled feet when his mouth lifted into that wicked curve, her magnetic stare knowing just what that subtle shift meant as she listened to the song's final notes.

"Hey - come with me," he said softly, his voice thick and ragged as the surrounding people clapped in appreciation of the musicians. "Quickly, love."

Emma felt her nerves spike fractionally as he kissed her hand before gripping it with an intent she certainly recognized. She could almost feel the desire in his fingertips, his flesh burning as he guided her in a weaving manner through the crowd of people. It was fortunate that he was the one leading them seeing as she was so distracted by the way his broad shoulders looked in that tailored suit and the firm clenching of his jaw as his eyes darkened. The sun was nearing its setting place and the way the dwindling rays toyed with the horizon beckoned them towards the towering trees just beyond the pond. The impending shadows didn't do much to hide the white trunks of the tall, crisscrossing birches as they paused just at the edge of the woods.

"Killian, where are-"

Her words were unfinished as his mouth slammed into hers, the fluid motion accompanied by his tentative touch on her cheek and his vibrating growl against her lips. The teasing sound coaxed her mouth open quickly, his tongue teasing as her bottom lip became the victim of his gentle tugging teeth. Emma's hands moved instinctively, brushing against his chest and rising up to his collar with a firm grip. She could feel his breath hitch beneath her anxious hands as he deepened the kiss, the well practiced movement of his mouth bringing forth that familiar ache.

The thought that it hadn't been like this since they'd patched things up crossed her hazy mind. There was always some sort of bold passion behind the way Killian Jones loved her, but _this_ \- this was different.

This was _want_ \- pure, uninhibited, lustful hunger. She didn't realize just how much she'd missed it until he pulled her tight against him, his thin pants rubbing slickly against the sheer material of her dress. Emma felt the desire increase to absolute need when his hand lowered, tangling in the the long slit of the skirt while he lifted her thigh out from under the fabric to rest at his hip.

" _Emma_ ," he groaned, his voice quiet as his needy gaze flickered back toward the party they'd left behind. "Hold onto me, love."

She nodded, kissing him once more as she gripped the sides of his suit coat. The world moved around her in a rapid blur and he carried them both at that unreal speed to an open grove of trees well out of prying eyesight of citizens. Landing on the soft ground, Emma noticed the danger lurking in his glare and the blaze it seemed to ignite held made her hands instantly anxious to explore.

"Bloody gorgeous," he mumbled, his mouth tracing her neck down to where the one strap rested on her shoulder. "It's unfair, Swan."

"What…. _oh_ ….what is?"

"To torment a man like this," he continued, testing her collarbone with his teeth. "To make me desperate for you when we're in no location for such thoughts."

"I'm pretty sure this dress-" she breathed between kisses, her voice heaving as she caressed his scalp. "-was _your_ idea."

"Not the gown, love," he reminded her. "Just _you_ , Emma. I want _you_."

The admission made her melt, his seductive accent burning through her as the dress straps slid off her shoulders. His hot breath fell across her flushed skin, moving in an arousing trail from her jaw to the fabric covering her breasts. He took the material carefully in his teeth, dragging it down just enough to notice the necklace resting low and glistening in the fading daylight. His smile was subtle as he eyed the jewelry, his reaction weighing heavy on her emotions as he leaned forward to continue his well traveled path of kisses.

"I love you, Emma Swan," he whispered, lifting his lips back to hers with a simple affection she could easily get lost in. "Let me show you."

"Mmmm," she grinned with a quick peck against his jaw. " _Here?"_

"Aye," he confirmed, navigating them toward one of the thicker trees. "I don't want to wait, love. I miss you - need to _feel_ you."

Her fingers raked through his dark, disorderly hair as she smiled. His words were constantly so many things - charming, direct, and ultimately one thousand percent honest. Denying what they were both so clearly burning for wasn't an option - even if giving in meant she was about to let him ravish her in the middle of the woods at dusk.

"These are going to have to go then," she told him, pulling on his black belt and the button below it. "As well as the rest of your dashing attire, Dr. Jones."

"That can somewhat be managed," he grinned, trying to stabilize his legs as she shoved his thick jacket off his strong shoulders. "Though this garment of yours is going to be a little trickier to navigate."

"I'm confident you'll figure something out," she gasped, her jaw dropping as he nibbled her pulse. "Just let me get-"

His hands were fast and firm, supporting her against one of the larger trees before gripping her dress and lifting it to bunch the fabric loosely around her waist. A cold brush of air sparked a shiver across her exposed thighs and she fumbled with the flimsy fastening of his tuxedo pants. His mouth was insistent, rendering her uncoordinated fingers useless as he took over the task. Feeling his teeth graze the throbbing vein on her neck, Emma flinched slightly as her grip relocated to his collar. She mercilessly yanked his shirt open, tearing a feral groan from his tongue. Letting her hazy eyes focus on the way his breathless expression silhouetted him against the growing darkness, Emma was almost positive she'd never seen him quite so wrecked.

God, he was _beautiful_ \- every single, supernatural piece of him.

"Emma," he growled, sucking a dark mark just below her collarbone. "Let me have you, love."

"Yes," she moaned, her head flush against the tree bark as he caressed her thigh. " _Please_ , Killian…."

His motion was swift as he shoved his pants down just far enough, bracing her between the white tree truck and his rigid body. Emma wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hold as he gripped her skirt harder, keeping it between his tense fingers as his hips rutted against hers. Feeling his hard length firmly rubbing along her thigh, Emma let out a shaky breath in anticipation. Her nails dug gently into his scalp as he pushed inside and the deep sound emanating from his throat made her entire body vibrate with want.

"Look at me, darling," he coaxed, thrusting upward gently. " _Emma_ …."

Somehow, Emma managed to center her vision on him as he instructed. She watched his tongue trace the points of his exposed fangs quickly, the veins in his face pulsing dark and menacing as he began that steady motion of back and forth. There was something so wickedly intoxicating about him in moments like this, even with the dense wood of the tree digging into her shoulder blades. His eyes were that hypnotic blue, edged with a deepness that sent chills down her spine. Keep one hand buried in his thick scalp, she nodded quickly as he sank further with a low moan.

"Oh, _god_ …."

"Bloody hell, love," he countered as he widened his stance while she bore down on him. "So…. _damn_ ….beautiful, Swan."

Her nerves sparked as pleasure pulsed through her veins, his breath scorching as he surged forward and pulled back with a delicious drag of his hips. Emma gave up silencing the sated sounds escaping her lungs as he kissed the length of her neck down to the plump flesh just above her breast. His sharp teeth teased the skin, his beard catching lightly on the material sitting just below the efforts of his taunting tongue.

She knew what he was pondering. She knew what he wanted - and _oh_ , she wanted that too.

"Killian - _yes_ ," she encouraged, clenching around him as she clutched his dark hair a little harder. "Right there."

"Right-" he asked, his accent heavy and slurred as he pressed his fangs lightly against her flawless skin. "- _here_ , love?"

"Yes, _please_ ," she nearly begged. "Just….bite me."

He did so wordlessly, his fangs piercing deep and fast as she cried out in ecstasy. He drank slowly as he shook against her, his release following hers with a final gruff groan. He didn't take much, swallowing twice before pulling back and catching his breath. Emma noticed a stray smear of blood on his bottom lip and moved her hand, swiping it away with her thumb as he smirked lazily at her. He spun carefully, dropping to the leafy ground and letting her perch on top of him while they both came back to reality - well, supposing that this life they led together _was_ actually real.

When he gave her that sated, sweet, soulful smile, it was still a little hard to believe that it was.

"I love you, Swan."

That simple phrase warmed her unexpectedly and she bit back the grin that had become her typical reaction. How did he fill in the missing pieces of her life with one _single_ sentiment like that? She realized it was an answer she might never learn - and she also decided she might be alright with that.

"I love you too," she smiled, nuzzling his nose before leaning her forehead on his. "But can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Can we be done conforming to society for tonight?"

"Mmmm," he laughed with a sigh. "Did we ever start?"

Emma giggled in return, letting him toy with her hair as he kissed her once more. It dawned on her as she felt the dull pain left behind by his piercing teeth that perhaps they'd never really been destined for normality. There was definitely nothing typical about this man or the way she'd completely fallen for him and the passion he constantly exuded, but maybe that was okay.

Maybe Emma didn't need normal. Maybe what she truly needed was to simply be in love with Killian Jones, the socially distracting and supernaturally sexy man who was _so_ much more than normal.


End file.
